


Gang of Thrones

by SemiFeralCatLady



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, All characters amped up to 12, Betrayal, Body Shaming, Codependency, Cruelty, Dark Comedy, Dark Love Story, Dee being a badass, Dennis is back with the gang, Disguise, Drug Use, Electrocution, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Epic, Espionage, Evil Vs Evil, Friendship, Game of Thrones References everywhere, Horrible People Being Horrible, Human Trafficking, Humiliation, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, Intrigue, Kidnapping, Manipilation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Multi, Narcissism, One-Sided Attraction, Parody, Political Alliances, Recreational Drug Use, Revenge, Sadism, Scheming, Sexist Language, Sibling Incest, Slurs, Smart Magaret, Torture, i love villains, post season 12, saga, taking the dick towel show way too serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-20 07:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiFeralCatLady/pseuds/SemiFeralCatLady
Summary: What starts out as a simple out of court settlement against the owners of Paddy's Pub, results in a changing of hands of the bar, and throws the lives of all of its former owners into chaos. After backroom deals are made, and some delusional ideations are factored in, the feud between the Reynolds and McPoyles evolves into an adventure of epic proportions. Who will inherit the property at last? And who shall ultimately sit on the Throne of Philadelphia, if such a throne even exists?





	1. The Gang Loses Paddy's

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Gang Has An Orgy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778752) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Edit: I corrected the formatting issue that my work originally suffered from by breaking up the paragraphs more, making the chunks a lot more digestible. I am also pruning out any awkward phrases and bits that just don't work as I come across them. This is why feedback is crucial. Please keep leaving comments if you like it. It's not just an ego thing, it also helps me improve my writing.

Tuesday,  
10:45 A.M.  
“So Frank, you’re saying you’re saying you’re incontinent?” Dennis squinted at the bald, fat little man who raised him. He had known for years that his father was falling into decrepitude but wasn’t prepared for this kind of disgusting bombshell. Frank let out a sigh. He wagged one of his short, greasy fingers in Dennis’s direction.

  
“Nuh, uh! I ain’t incontinent! I can hold my piss!” Frank corrected.  
“Well, then why have you decided to have Charlie start buying you Depends?” Dennis insisted. At this point, his sister Deandra had begun to follow the conversation and was intently looking for an answer from Frank. Frank took notice but refused to acknowledge her silent participation.

  
“I sent Charlie to grab me some Depends, so I don’t gotta’ slow down in my drinking!” Frank informed Dennis.  
“Frank, if you’re voluntarily wearing diapers, maybe it is time to slow down!” Dee chimed in from in back of the bar.  
“Shut up, bird! No one’s talkin’ to you!” Frank scolded his daughter. She really was insufferable. Frank was not going to have any of her bull shit.

  
“Yeah, Dee. You aren’t in this conversation. Go, clean the tables or something. Do your goddamned job!” Dennis added. At that, he turned his attention back to Frank.  
Dee silently seethed with bottled rage and resentment towards the man who she had once called father, and that self-absorbed prick of a twin brother. Goddamn her fate, being stuck with these two all her life.

  
“So anyways, I wear these so I don’t have to stop drinkin’. Stop to take a piss. Take a shit. I just do it in my Depends!” Frank responded in a matter of fact tone. Neither one of his children could believe what they were hearing.

  
“Yes, but, then you are sitting in your own filth!” Dennis bellowed in disgust.  
“So?” Frank completely dismissed the argument without effort or analysis. Dee and Dennis shared a look across the bar. An understanding look of mutual repulsion towards Frank. Suddenly, the door of the bar burst open. Charlie ran through, looking worried and anxious. He turned to his friends, and waved his arms frantically, in a familiar panicked Charlie way.

  
“You guys, you guys. This is bad! You know that one lawyer? The one who hates us?” Charlie yelped. Dennis, Frank, and Dee looked at each other, then back at Charlie, and collectively shrugged their shoulders.

  
“No idea!” Dennis blurted, “But how long were you going to keep the fact that you’re buying diapers for Frank a secret?”

  
“I’ve known that bitch was incontinent for months now!” Dee rang in, raising a snicker from her brother. Frank sneered at the two of them.

  
“I ain’t incontinent!” Frank snarled. His indignant protest was abruptly interrupted by Charlie’s frantic squeals.

  
“You guys! Forget about whatever’s going on with Frank! It doesn’t matter! We’re about to lose the bar!” Charlie shouted. The group suddenly stopped what they were doing and focused on Charlie.

  
“Charlie, you didn’t enter our bar as a prize in another dance competition, did you?” Dennis scolded.

  
“God, no! Charlie!?” Dee pleaded. The scruffy little man shook his head furiously.

  
“Naw dude! It’s much worse than that! This time we’re completely screwed!”  
A familiar man wearing a grey suit entered the door suddenly, a leather briefcase in hand. His hair, short and immaculately combed. An eye patch on his left eye, a new feature. Charlie remembered that epic courtroom battle. Apparently, so did he. He laid his briefcase on an open table. The blonde woman suddenly jumped up.

  
“Oh wait! Don’t sit down!” Dee shouted toward the lawyer. The lawyer stopped and watched Dee as she began to search the seats in the bar. She peeked over her shoulder. Trying to be indiscreet, she loudly whispered behind her.  
“Charlie, where’d we put the tack stool?”  
“Dude! Dee! Do not give him the tack stool!” Charlie angrily responded.  
“Come on! It’ll be funny!” Dee retorted. The lawyer, having witnessed all of this, casually had a seat, snickering to himself.  
“Oh, Reynolds family! You will never stop making it an intensely satisfying experience to give you bad news. And today really isn’t your day!” The room snarled at him.

  
“What do ya’ want, Jew lawyer?” Frank snarled. The lawyer shook his head and sighed.  
“Still using racial epithets, I see, Frank! Horrible never changes.”  
“Yeah, yeah, get off my balls!” Frank pressed.  
“Heyo!” Mac finally entered the room from the office. He looked in curiously as he noticed everyone focusing on the lawyer, and whatever was in his briefcase. “Woah, woah! What did I miss?”  
“Why you’ve come in just in time, Mr. McDonald! I’m issuing the five of you a notice to vacate the premises!”  
“On what grounds?” Frank interjected.  
“On the grounds of an out of court settlement for reparation of damages to two clients, Liam and Ryan McPoyle.” The lawyer smiled. All members of the gang began to feel panic well up, aside from Frank, who was furious.  
“How ‘da hell did you get past me? And didn’t they throw your case out?” Frank argued.  
“Ah yes! The McPoyle wedding case. The one where I lost my eye! I didn’t forget that.” The lawyer glared at Charlie.  
“You know, now you just look straight up like a bad guy from one of those Japanese lawyer games.” Charlie impulsively exclaimed. The rest of the gang snickered, whispering among themselves. The lawyer rolled his one working eye.

  
“Oh Reynolds and associates! How I’ve longed to deliver you a finishing blow, and today, I think I have. The McPoyle’s were awarded the property of Paddy’s Pub for damages done in an apartment fire. Smaller shares were awarded to one Matthew Mara, and one, Gail, last name omitted. But main shares were awarded to Liam and Ryan Mcpoyle, as part of a much larger multi-case settlement against you.”  
“Why would you ever want to take that case, dude?” Charlie exclaimed.  
“It’s easy. It was an open and shut case, and it gave me an opportunity to finally bring my worst enemies to ruin. My god, you people have me talking like a villain in a tv show. You really do ruin people’s lives. Anyway, I knew that you wouldn’t leave of your own volition, so I arranged for a police escort.”

The door flung open once again, with four large police officers proceeding. One in the middle stepped forward and spoke authoritatively.  
“Will Frank Reynolds, Dennis Reynolds, Deandra Reynolds, Ronald “Mac” McDonald, and Charlie Kelley please step forward?”  
Without hesitation, the entire gang leaped to their feet and placed their hands over their heads.  
“Accept our escort peacefully, and we will not be required to use force.”  
Frank glowered at the lawyer as he walked towards the exit of the pub.  
“You no good, piece o’ shit, shyster lawyer! You’re gonna’ regret this!”

  
Frank lunged towards the lawyer in a fit of rage, ignoring everything else. With that, the officer closest to Frank constrained him, giving him a spray of mace to his eyes. The rest of the gang hurried passed Frank, who was currently being kicked by the officer that sprayed him. As they were walking out of their bar for what might be the last time, they watched as the sign from above the door was roughly handled by a course, gangly man. Another, a similar looking shady figure stood at the top of the ladder, affixing a new sign to the marquee area. McPoyle’s Milk Bar. The balance had really been thrown off this day. South Philadelphia would never be the same.

At the bar, a police officer continued to beat on Frank, as the lawyer watched, satisfied from one of the bar tables. Liam and Ryan McPoyle enter the bar, followed by their sister Margaret. Frank reached out his hand towards the new owner of the bar.

  
“Liam, it’s me! Frank! We can make a deal!” Frank graveled beneath layers of tear gas and asthma brought on by beatings from the officer. The sandy blonde proprietor of the bar looked down upon the bloodied, puffy-faced little bald man, hyperventilating and grasping at his pant leg. He could easily dismiss him and have him arrested. But was there something he wanted from Frank… perhaps. Liam snapped his fingers at the officer and pointed his finger at Frank Reynold’s portly little frame.

  
“This one stays, officer. By request of the new owner.” Liam exclaimed. The officer took a moment to pause and look at the strange man making a request. He noticed the lawyer from the corner of his eye, motioning towards the bar’s owner to abort whatever plan he was brewing. Clearly, he thought it wasn’t worth it. The officer looked at Liam one more time, just to determine if he was being serious or not. Reluctantly, he accepted this as a legitimate request.

  
“Alright!” the officer shouted, reaching down to punch Frank Reynolds’ face. “But I’m going to finish beating the shit out of him first!”  
“You’re too late, officer. I shit myself the second that you maced me!” Frank declared. The officer scrunched his nose and backed off. Liam, the demented leader of his family motioned his shoulders, signaling to his siblings. They snapped to attention and moved towards Frank immediately.

  
“Ryan! Margaret! Get Franklin cleaned off and then bring him to my office.”  
The two McPoyles seized Frank underneath each arm and began to drag him away towards the bathroom. The lawyer flagged Liam down. He had only taken this miscreant’s case to exact revenge on his enemies and knew him to be a truly unsavory character. But one thing that he certainly wanted him to avoid was doing any business with Frank Reynolds. This lowest of low con men. It could ruin everything.

  
“Mr. McPoyle! As your attorney, I would like to advise against making any future contact with Mr. Reynolds.”

  
“That’s enough advice from the help!” Liam brusquely dismissed the lawyer, much to his dismay, disappearing into his newly acquired office.

  
Within a matter of minutes, Frank was fixed up by Ryan and Margaret Mcpoyle to an extent that the short hairy man had never expected. The two had changed his soiled Depends, wiped him down from top to bottom with baby wipes, dressed his wounds, even applied baby powder, and a special cologne which made him smell of fresh milk. Frank had to admit, it was a lot more pleasant than anything he expected, considering who he was dealing with. It was a bit of a shock, seeing these two inbred savages work with such proficiency. He was beginning to suspect some trickery, particularly on the part of the younger sister, Margaret Mcpoyle, who seemed much keener of mind than she ever let on. Every time, he attempted to read the strange, wiry girl, she would notice him looking, and lick her lips, only to be reprimanded by her older brother, Ryan.

  
“No Margaret! This one’s too old for you. It’s gross.” Ryan would scold. The girl would give her brother what appeared to be the McPoyle equivalent of puppy dog eyes; soulless, glassy, but clearly attempting for a sad and manipulative look. This lasted for about five seconds, which felt like an hour. Then she licked her lips again, like a lizard, apparently to the extreme arousal of her older brother, who pulled her in, to join lips with her, and exchange a passionate, milky kiss.

  
Frank watched in disgust and bewilderment, but he couldn’t voice his discomfort and blow any shot he had at doing business. These were, after all, part of the new management. He had to blend in. Not that it would be a problem. They even provided him with a spare set of clothes in his size, in the style that the McPoyles preferred as a family. Vintage, it looked and felt like a left-over bit of wardrobe from the filming of one of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies. Regardless, he was fixed up. He felt fresh, even a little bit pampered by these bizarre creatures. He could only imagine what their ultimate design was. At the moment, he did not care about that. All that mattered to him was getting some semblance of his old life back.

  
He made his way to the office in what used to be Paddy’s back room, followed closely by Ryan and Margaret. Sitting dead center of the room, in what used, to be Frank’s revolving chair, sat Liam McPoyle. The defacto leader of this generation of McPoyles. His shaggy, sandy blond hair swept over the top of his forehead, framing his lightly stubbled, oval face. The flesh colored eye patch, with a drawn-on eye that had become Liam’s signature, sat on his right eye. This was always off-putting to Frank, and he did all that he could, not to stare at this feature. His best attempts were mostly worthless and resulted in him staring more obviously. Liam noticed but decided to ignore.

  
“Now then, Mr. Reynolds, what can we do for each other?” Liam stated, in his usual, dismissive fashion.  
“Look, I ain’t asking for much here. I just want my old job back. Ok? I’ll help you run the bar. You don’t have to do much, and you get all of my experience and business know how.” Frank stated.  
“We McPoyles are perfectly capable of running a business, Franklin. We already own a chain of our own drive-through dairies across Philly for example, and we’ve cornered the local video rental market.”

  
“You mean that dying field? Terrible business sense! You need a pro!” Frank piped in. Liam looked bored and annoyed at this point. His McPoyle entourage was beginning to eye Frank aggressively.  
“Let’s cut to the chase here, Franklin, so as not to waste either of our time. What do you have that I want?”  
“Other than the fact that I’ve run numerous multimillion dollar companies successfully over the course of my life? What the hell could you be interested in?”  
“I want your children, Frank! Sell me Dennis and Deandra!” Liam finally shouted, in his signature, insane style. Frank gave Liam a puzzled look.

  
“You want me to sell you my kids?” Frank said baffled. Liam flashed a strange, sinister smile, reflected by his two siblings, who were currently standing behind him.

“It’s a very common practice in my family. In fact, I have hundreds of contracts already written up for such occasions. It’s much more common than you think, Franklin.” Liam smirked twistedly. He handed over a strange contract from across the table, which Frank began to look over. The document looked slightly yellow and appeared to have been written on an old typewriter, years before. At the bottom, he noticed that it was dated to 2007. It looked like the family had been sitting on this idea for a while now.

  
“Alright! Deal! You want Dee and Dennis, you can have ‘em! Bang ‘em! Make ‘em bang each other! I don’t give a shit. They’re not even my kids!”  
“And Charles too! His name’s in the contract!” Liam insisted. Frank shook his head.  
“Naw! You can’t have Charlie…”

  
“Then the deal’s off!” Liam shouted in a shrill voice. “This contract was written more than ten years ago. I’m not getting the Deandra and Dennis of back then! At this point, most of their best years are behind them! You have nothing to negotiate!” He continued to rant. Frank waved his hands in front of him, attempting to make peace.

“Alright, alright! You can have Charlie too! Jesus Christ!” Frank gave the contract one last look, and then signed his name and date at the bottom.

“Then we have a deal. Bump it.” Liam Mcpoyle extended his fist. Frank shook his head, but reluctantly fist bumped the grotesque man.

“Welcome on board, Franklin. Your first job as general manager of McPoyle’s Milk Bar… Bring me your children!” A thunderclap rang dramatically from outside as if cued by the very nature of this unholy alliance. Frank shuddered a bit, but now was not the time for regrets. He had managed to salvage his livelihood just by the skin of his teeth, and even then, only thanks to a bizarre and probably perverted fascination that this freakshow had with his kids. It made literally no sense to Frank, but he wasn’t about to argue, or rescind. He had laid his last good hand on the table, and he refused to squander this opportunity. He would need help though.

“Alright. I’ll get you, Dennis and Dee…”  
“And Charles!”

“And Charlie. I’ll get him too. But I’m not gonna’ be able to do this on my own. I’ll need help.” Frank insisted. “Lemme’ go over to the bridge on Fifth and Cedar. I gotta’ meet a guy.”

“Are you referring to Matthew? Because he works for me now.” Liam stated without emotion.

“You got Cricket working for ya?”

“I am a river to my people, Franklin. Matthew should be down in the basement.”


	2. The Gang Gets Trafficked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether or not to save this for next week, or just release it now, but I just couldn't help myself. I promise, no more early releases. I've just been sitting on this for so long, waiting to be invited, and I wanted to give you a little bit more of what I've got. Here's where we start to really see those personalities amp up. I hope you enjoy it!

There they were again. Dennis, Dee, Mac, and Charlie. Out in the world, just like after the Reynolds' college days ended, only this time without the money from the Reynolds' trust fund to keep them feeling safe. No Paddy’s. No merch. No fame or fortune. Here they were, almost twenty years later, and with nothing to show for it. Each of them held in tears, if for no other reason than to not let the others see them cry. This was not their day. Frank would save them though, right? Probably?  
Come to think of it, where was Frank? None of them had seen him leave Paddy’s pub. And granted, they all scattered when he got himself tackled by that cop.

  
“Am I a bad person for abandoning my own dad when he got sprayed with mace?” Dee mused.  
“Of course not, Dee. We all did it. Also, Frank totally did that to himself. It’s not wrong to let the man deal with the consequences of his own stupidity.” Dennis reassured his sister. Charlie wasn’t convinced by any of this.

  
“Goddamn it, you guys! We need Frank! How are we gonna survive? Tell me, just how are we gonna survive without Frank and his money?” Charlie shrieked. “Things have really been thrown out of balance here in Philly! You guys gotta’ admit it! McPoyles are taking over the city! We almost lost Dennis to Minnesota or North Dakota. Wherever. Cherry soda. We lost Frank…”

  
“Goddamnit, calm down Charlie!” Dee shouted. “I hate it when you get like this!”  
“Well, what are we gonna do, Dee? Hmm? Tell me, what the fuck are we gonna do?”  
“Charlie, chill out! We’ll think of something.” Mac reassured his friend. “It’ll be just like before Frank. Remember the time before Frank?”

  
“I vaguely recall having cancer…” Charlie started to say.  
“You did not have cancer, you asshole. You were scamming us!” Dennis protested. Charlie chuckled.  
“Oh yeah! That was a good one!”  
“Come on, Charlie. We’ll figure something out, and this time we’ll be set for life.”

  
“You’re not talking about that bank robbing fantasy again, are you? We can't rob a bank, Dee!” Charlie argued.  
“No! Goddamnit, Charlie. I was just trying to be encouraging!” She had been talking about robbing a bank, but she didn’t have to admit it.  
“Actually, I’m going to agree with the bird on this one, Charlie. We’re always getting into serious shit, and we’re always scamming ourselves out of it. I think that God must love us.” Mac attempted optimism.

  
“Oh, enough of that God shit, Mac!” Dee interrupted  
“Will all of you shut the fuck up? Something important is happening right now, and you’re all missing it! All of you! We had to lose what we had. Don’t you get it? It was holding us back! Paddy’s was holding us back! Now that we’ve been freed from its cursed clutches, we can finally achieve the greatness we were meant for!” Dennis insisted. He was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them, but he wouldn’t let on.

  
Charlie stared, at a complete loss for anything to say.  
“Alright, that’s it! Dennis lost his shit! Who’s up for finding some crack with me?” Dee interrupted.

  
“Is that who you want to be again, Deandra? A crackhead street urchin with no future? Or are you ready, Dee, to finally take the initiative and live up to your true potential. Standing by the side of the Golden God. You, a Golden Goddess in your own right! Finally, and deliciously achieving all that you have deserved over the course of your sad, pathetic life. Leaving all that desperation and failure behind. Becoming something more beautiful and rare than any talent half your age could ever dream to be.” He could see an inspired tear forming in the corner of his sister’s eye. So precious and rare were the moments that he managed to achieve such a feat.

  
“And you. Mac. Charlie. My two best friends in the whole world. My brothers! The only two people I would trust to the ends of the Earth. Ours is a friendship for the ages. The friendship between all four of us. You can’t buy what we’ve got. There’s no formula you can follow. We are a force of nature. Horrible and awesome! A chaotic juggernaut which is tethered no more. Now is the gang’s finest hour! Can you feel it?” Dennis monologued while gesticulating wildly. By this point, Charlie, Mac, and Dee were fully invested. All clamoring to show how strongly they believed it. This feeling was incredible.

  
“I love you, Dennis!” Mac exclaimed.  
“I know,” Dennis answered with cool indifference, wounding his best friend’s heart as he had so many times before.  
“Come on. Let’s do this! Gang! Gang! Gang!” Dennis chanted. The other three put their hands in a circle.  
“Gang! Gang! Gang! Gang! Gang!”

Mac, Dee, and Charlie joined in unison until a loud bang was heard from just ahead. The four best friends turned, to find their former leader and scheme funder, Frank, pointing his revolver at them. He was accompanied by Matthew Mara, as well as Ryan and Margaret McPoyle. Matthew carried a handheld, Luger-style pistol. The two McPoyles proudly sported assault shotguns.

  
“Oh haven’t you heard, bitches? There’s a new gang in town! And Frank Reynolds is still the guy in charge!”  
“My brother’s in charge, Frank! You’re just his puppet!” Ryan droned. Frank looked cross at Ryan.  
“Shut the fuck up, unibrow! I’m the boss of this hunting party, ain’t I? This is terrible group dynamics, Ryan. We’re really gonna have to work on this.”  
“Whatever, bitch!” Ryan groaned. Frank narrowed his eyes.  
“Goddamn it! Stop talking back! You’re making me look like an asshole!”

  
“Frank, what the fuck is going on here?” Dennis demanded.  
“Yeah, Frank!” “Frank, Goddamnit!” “What the fuck, Frank!”

  
The usual throng of bratty complaints from this group. They’d never grow up.  
“I don’t owe you shit for explanations.”

  
“Is this about us riding your ass for being incontinent?” Dee asked.  
“I ain’t incontinent, bitch! Even with a bunch o’ guns pointed at ya’, you’re still sassin’ me!” Frank fumed.  
“Frank, dude. It’s okay. I’ve known for a while now, and nobody’s judging you. I’m fine buying you Depends, Frank, and the rest of the gang doesn’t care. We love you, Frank. Right guys?” Charlie said, trying to talk Frank down.

  
“Look, Charlie, I know what you’re trying to do, and it ain’t gonna work! Alright? This is just business, see? Liam and I had a deal.”

  
“A deal? You agreed to kill us, Frank?” Dee shrieked. Frank narrowed his eyes and shook his head again.  
“Goddamn it! This is going nowhere! Cricket?”

  
“What’s up, Franky?” the haggard blonde to Frank’s right responded, keeping his pistol trained on Dee’s head.  
“Get the collars on ‘em, now! You can start with the girl if ya’ like.” Frank glared. With that, Cricket opened a canvas messenger bag that he had hanging on his side. He pulled out what appeared to be a silencing dog collar from the bag. Flashing a bloodthirsty grin, showing off the few teeth he had left, he approached his target.

  
“Oh yes, Frank. Cricket likey! Cricket likey very much!” he roughly pulled the collar tight around Deandra’s slender neck, savoring every gasp, every choking sound and unspoken wince of pain that arose from his victim. He stood for a moment, just to admire his handiwork. Then he pulled out a small remote control to test it out. He switched a dial. Dee screamed and grabbed at her neck.

  
“Ow! Cricket, goddamn it!”  
“My name’s not Cricket anymore, bitch! It’s Matthew! I’m Matthew Mara, and you’re going to say my name, Deandra Reynolds! You fucking whore!” the disfigured man was beside himself, practically drooling. Frank caught glimpse of the two McPoyles, who were now utterly enthralled with this creepy spectacle. Passing lustful glances between one another, then towards Matthew and Deandra, and they reveled in exquisite torture. Frank’s stomach turned, ever so slightly at the thought of all of this.

  
“Shut up, Cricket! Get the other collars on, now, bitch! Before they try somethin’ funny.”  
“Right boss!” Cricket leaped to action, securing a collar first around that sniveling little buffoon of a janitor’s neck, making sure to dig the metal prods into his larynx, making him gasp for air.

  
“Dude, Cricket! What the hell, man?” Charlie wondered what he’d ever done to lead Matthew to treat him this way. But Matthew knew. He remembered all the tortures that these monsters had put him through. Every second of this was warranted. Wasting no time, Matthew moved on to Dennis who was standing perfectly still and poised. Stoic, with no expression. Trying to play it cool to the very end. We’ll just see how cool you are after I get you rigged up, the homeless gentlemen thought.

Like he did with the others, he made sure to cause as much pain as he could in the process while leaving no lasting damage. He cinched the scrap on just as he had for his twin sister. Just barely giving him room to breathe so that he would not pass out along the way. Dennis made no obvious indication of his discomfort, this entire time. If not for the delicious squeals of pain and submission that he had received from Deandra only moments ago, Dennis’s defiant lack of reaction would have made him positively livid. But he had done his job. Dennis could try to put on a cool face in front of his low-life posse, it made no difference.

Soon, they’d all be begging for his mercy. Especially… all of them. But especially Dee. Cricket returned to Frank’s side, gun in one hand, remote in the other. Charlie and the Reynolds twins looked curiously to Mac, who they noticed hadn’t been fitted with a collar. Just what the hell was going on here.

“Wait, you’re just taking them? You and I are cool?” Mac asked, gesturing with his hands towards Frank. The other members of the gang, all fitted with collars looked at Mac. They began to argue but were quickly silenced by a twist of a knob on Cricket’s remote. They all grabbed for their necks, desperation in their eyes. Even Dennis. Oh, there was that moment Cricket was waiting for. He relished this moment. It was so deeply fulfilling.

“Naw Mac. You’re free to go. They didn’t want you.”  
“Didn’t want me? Are you serious?” Mac said incredulously, sliding his hand in front of himself to highlight his marvelous physique. Frank shook his head to Mac’s surprised disappointment.  
“No. Your name wasn’t in the contract Mac. You’re good. Actually, wanna come work for me? I bought an extra gun!” Frank smiled slyly. Mac took a second to pause, and looked over his three friends, panting, bloodshot eyes pleading for his help.

He grabbed Dennis in a firm embrace, feeling his soft, well-groomed hair brush past his cheek as his head darted to his best friend’s shoulder. He pulled back, looked Dennis in the eyes squarely, and backed up in the direction of Frank and his thugs.  
“Sorry, bro!” Mac said, raising his hands.

  
“Unbelievable!” Dennis glowered.  
“Oh, you have gotta’ be kidding me!” Dee shouted.  
“You have no honor or loyalty, Mac! You piece of shit!” Charlie ranted. Mac shrugged.

  
“Hey, guys. There’s two sides here. One of them is armed to the teeth, has a bar, and a future. The other one’s wearing dog collars and pissing their pants from electrocution. I actually have a choice here. What side would you take?”  
“A choice? You could choose not to join the people who are holding your friends hostage, you goddamned son of a bitch! You could do that!” Dennis berated Mac. Mac put his hands out to his sides, lightly shrugging again, as Frank slid a pistol into one of his open hands. He pointed the gun at his friends.

  
“Yeah, sorry bro. My hands are tied.” Mac smirked. Frank patted the young man on his broad shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t interpret this the wrong way. Frank didn’t have anything against gays, it wasn’t that. He just didn’t want Mac using him to deal with his weird daddy issues like he sometimes did.  
“It’s nice to have the Gang back together!” Frank sneered, “Come on! Let’s get these losers back to the bar!” Frank ordered his crew. Mac, Matthew, and the McPoyles all took position behind Dennis, Dee, and Charlie. Dee screamed again and grabbed her neck.

  
“Ah! Cricket, you goddamned street rat! Ahh! Fuck!” she grabbed her neck again. Her eyes burning with pain and resentment.  
“It’s Matthew, bitch! You’re gonna’ say my name if nothing else!”  
“Ahhh! Fuck you, Cricket!” She screeched and wailed.

  
“Oh Dee, sweet mama, this has been a long time coming! And I am going to give you everything you deserve!” Matthew foamed psychotically. How he had longed to say those words in the past under different context. Back when he still loved her. When he still believed in her. But he realized just how unworthy of such a scenario she was. And this feeling that he had now, it was incredible. He knew he was ruined, disfigured. A wreck of his former self. A disgrace to everything he once stood for as a man of the cloth. But right now, he felt like the most powerful man in the world. He noticed Margaret staring at him, captivated by his behavior. She licked her lips at him. Creepy. But it was kind of working for him. He winked at her with his bad eye. Everything felt right in his world for once. This was the dawning of the age of the Cricket!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an author's note. There is some toxic masculinity coming from Matthew Mara, which doesn't exactly go away. It is mainly aimed at Dee Reynolds, who has ruined his life (that is very canon). I do not condone misogyny at all. Matthew is a very angry man in this. Also, Dee is starting to amp up already. It's subtle. But you can't torture Dee the way that Matthew is doing, and get away with it, ultimately. Not that she's a good person either. I don't condone any of their behavior.


	3. The Gang Gets Tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis, Dee, and Charlie are taken to their new home and prison, the basement of what used to be Paddy's Pub. Matthew Mara, finally having gotten one up on his old enemies, is more than happy to unleash his sadistic side. Matthew's sadism seems to be winning him favor quickly with new management, but how will Charlie and the twins survive this onslaught?

It had been a long walk back to the Pub. Dennis, Dee, and Charlie all had burn marks etched across their throats from repeated shocks by their captor, Matthew Mara. Dee’s neck was predictably the worst, and she was having a hard time walking at this point, being partially supported by her twin brother and Charlie, just to keep her balance at this point.

 

To her credit, Dee had managed to withhold from referring to Matthew by his real name for the entire walk, referring to him only as “Cricket”, and various swear words. He may have had the upper hand for once, but she refused to concede anything, even if it spared her pain. This was the proud, noble Deandra Reynolds that he had fallen in love with as a child. That was the unyielding behavior that drove him to degrade himself so many times before. But it didn’t make a difference now. It was nothing but idiotic stubbornness, and she knew it. That’s what he told himself. Sure. Let her act tough! It would only lead her to more punishment. Matthew Mara was done showing mercy to her!

 

The three hostages entered the bar, followed closely by their captors. They attempted to take seats in the bar, but Matthew cranked the dial on his remote, causing them all to jump, and grab their necks. They eyed a large, somewhat familiar figure standing in front of the office’s closed door, acting as a burly bouncer. He scowled at the captives as they looked towards the office, and then looked right past them, at the bar’s employees.

 

“The boss doesn’t have time to take audience with the riffraff! Lock ‘em in the cellar for the night! Have ‘em organize things down there, and tie ‘em up after!” the large man shouted.

 

“Hey, I already got that mostly taken care of, I think…” Matthew began to relate, before being harshly cut off by the large man’s fevered howl.

 

“Well then you should mess things up again for them, so they have something to do!” that voice rang in all their ears.

 

“Doyle?” Dennis asked, recalling the largest and most ferocious of the McPoyle clan as the man who they had robbed of a professional football career so many years back. But that was Frank’s fault. If anything, he should be mad at Frank.

 

“You haven’t earned the right to say my name, slave! Make sure that one trips down the stairs, will you?” he barked at Matthew. “Oh. And make them wear these!” Doyle tossed some raggedy clothes which Matthew caught and ducked under the arm that wasn’t holding a pistol.

 

“Yeah, alright chief! I think I can handle that!” Matthew said with a chuckle, as he jammed his pistol in Dennis’s back hard, causing him to jump. So gratifying!

“C’mon, assholes! We’re going downstairs!”

 

Into the basement, they all went. Cricket made sure to trip Dennis, the last to enter the stairway. Dennis rolled down the stairs, taking Charlie’s knees out, and Charlie hurtled forward and took Dee down with him. The three hostages loudly slammed down the stairs, bumping various body parts in the commotion. Dee just barely threw her hands out at the bottom, protecting her nose from fracturing on the concrete, but badly jamming her wrists in the process. Charlie had a bit less luck, thwacking his skull on the last step, feeling that familiar, almost enjoyable but undeniably painful flash and dizziness which accompanied concussion. He was now having trouble hearing the others. Great! Dennis, being the last one down the stairs, received the most cushion on his fall, but he could still feel a series of open wounds along the right side of his body as he tried to adjust to his feet. Cricket and the two McPoyles stood at the top of the stairs, pointing their weapons and smiling cruelly. Dee took a glance at the shotguns that Margaret and Ryan were wielding and had a sudden flash of memory to the last time she had been held prisoner by these gross psychos.

 

“Wait! You dickbags aren’t holding us up with fake guns again, are you?”

 

Ryan aimed his shotgun and fired at a shelf of Brandy and Vodka. The bottles exploded, showering glass shrapnel across the room. Margaret, excited by her brother’s action, followed suit. She destroyed a large jar of pickles, allowing the juice and glass to spray upon the three captives. Vinegar and alcohol now seeped in all the new wounds, and the glass splinters embedded in the surface of their skin. This was not a trial run. There was no prank. They still had no idea why they were there, or what Frank meant when he mentioned a contract. Matthew came down the stairs, stepping on top of each of his prisoners as he moved through. He began to tear the room apart, knocking everything that wasn’t made of glass on the floor. Charlie tried to reason with his former acquaintance.

 

“Cricket, dude. You don’t have to… Ah! Oh, fuck!” Charlie suddenly grabbed at a blistering pain in his neck, realizing immediately that Matthew couldn’t be reasoned with.

 

“Stop calling me Cricket, bitch! And all of you cunts, strip down to yer’ underwear!” Matthew shouted, aiming his gun at them. Each of the began to strip layers of clothes off rapidly, as Matthew urged them, repeating “C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!”

 

“Make ‘em get naked! You’ve got a fuckin’ gun!” Ryan smiled while being held in a passionate embrace by his sister, Margaret.

 

“Alright. Like the way, you guys think up there. How bout you just keep going?”

 

“Oh god, are you serious? Ahhh! Ok, fuck!” Deandra wasted no more time, removing her sexy undergarments, and exposing her firm, lean body to the room. Dennis removed his underwear as well. He consciously chose to be flaccid, not to draw attention to himself. He had no pubic hair. Only smooth skin, as he had purchased laser surgery years ago. He was in exceptional shape. Lean and fit, with fantastic definition in his abdominal muscles. Charlie, refused to remove his filthy, worn out underwear, instead clenching his legs together tightly.

 

“C’mon, Charlie boy! Pop off those tighty whiteys! I don’t give a shit if you’re trying to hide a boner! I actually think it’s pretty damned funny!” Matthew pointed the gun at Charlie’s head, finally forcing him to comply with the request, revealing a rather large erection, and an extremely humiliated Charlie Kelley. Dee blushed a bit, hoping that her brother wouldn’t notice the fact that this aroused her. He had noticed. He also noticed and took exception to the fact that she had not to this point looked at his penis. He couldn’t help but feel jealously upstaged for once, and by Charlie of all people. Margeret began to kiss her brother passionately, and Charlie averted his eyes in shame. Matthew enjoyed a good laugh at his enemy’s expense.  He then tossed the ragged garments on the ground and pointed his gun at them.

 

“Now put these new clothes on, which your captors were so gracious as to provide you. You will wear them, bitches… but in a couple seconds. I kinda’ wanna look at Dee naked for a while longer!” Matthew smiled. Ryan and Margaret gave thumbs up as they continued to lock lips, looking almost as if they wanted to devour each other.

 

Dee narrowed her eyes at the skeezy little pervert standing before her. Objectifying her and allowing those creeps upstairs to watch and pleasure themselves to her. She knew that she had caused endless pain in this man’s life. She realized that she was at least partly responsible for bringing him to this wretched state, and that it was all wrong. That she was wrong. But nothing could excuse the way he was treating her right now. And she would not be forgiving when the tables inevitably turned.

 

“Now suit up! I’ve ogled you long enough!” Matthew demanded.

 

The three unfolded the ragged garments before them. The fabric was scratchy and loose. All shades of beige and gray. The tunics were ill-fitting, with bits of twine laced in to allow for some adjustment on the placement of the neckline. The trousers were loose and a bit billowy, though Charlie had managed to unfold the one skirts among the garments.

 

“Dude! Why do I have to be the one who wears a skirt, dude?” Charlie complained. Matthew laughed.

 

“Hey man, you’re the one who picked it out. Don’t blame me.” Matthew mocked.  Dee rolled her eyes, and turned to Charlie, handing him the pair of trousers she was holding, and taking the skirt from him, with a ‘Gimme that!’ for emphasis. She slid the skirt on, up her long slender legs, and tied a knot when it reached her waist. Charlie slid on the cream-colored trousers, a tied his waist as well. The three now looked like prisoners from a long-forgotten time. Probably the dark ages. They wondered what the point of this all was, but they weren’t allowed to explore these thoughts for very long, as Matthew snatched up their original clothes, hurled them up the stairs to Ryan and Margaret, and then pointed his gun again.

 

“Alright, you cocksucking bottom feeders! It’s time to get to work!” Matthew blustered. “Make it look the way it did before I knocked everything over! Otherwise, you’re not eating tonight! I’ll be back down to check in three hours, and if it’s not finished, I’m shocking the shit out of you, and spraying you in the eyes with bug spray!”

 

“Are you fucking serious, Cricket!” Dee exclaimed. Matthew pivoted behind him to grab a can of Black Flag, tear off the cap, and blast Dee directly in the face, causing her to cough, scream, and convulse all at once. The pungent, viscous toxic spray burned her eyes furiously, and she gagged hard, only barely able to breathe. Ryan laughed from atop the stairs. She could hear him. The ghoul bastard! Charlie immediately shielded his eyes as Matthew walked passed him, hoping dearly that he wouldn’t decide to spray him too.

 

“Alright, you’ve got your assignment. Somewhere in this room, there’s a list of instructions describing how Liam wants things done down here. Find it, and fucking do it! Oh! And don’t eat or drink ANYTHING! You hear me? If I come down here and find that any of you fuckwits has eaten or drunk anything, I’m punishing all of you. You got it?” Charlie and Dennis stared at Matthew, petrified by what he might do next. Dee would have followed suit if she could see, but she was still working to recover her vision. Matthew was starting to feel impatient with his captives. “You fucking GOT IT?” he reiterated.

 

“Yes Cricket!” the three said, almost in unison. A dry smirk curled along Matthew’s dry, pallid lips. He reached into his pocket one more time, twisting the knob, sending a high voltage snap across the surface of their already damaged skin.

 

“It’s Matthew to you, bitches!” he insisted, following his coworkers into the bar, and slamming the door shut. They heard the key turn on the basement door, then slide from the lock. After that, only silence followed. Nothing explained, no questions answered. Just the darkness of the basement, the wet, cluttered floor, and the three of them.

 

Dennis sat for a moment in silent contemplation, as Dee blindly felt along the floor until she found what she had been hoping to find; a sufficiently large shard of glass which she could use to sever that goddamned collar. Silently, she began to saw at the constraint around her neck with the sharp, uneven edge of the shard. A moment later, a powerful jolt snapped against her neck, causing her to squeeze the glass shard in her hand, causing a warm trickle of blood run down her palm.

 

“Oh, are you kidding me? How did they see that?” Dee complained. A crackling sound came over a speaker in the corner, which had only just been installed.

 

“Nice try bitch! We installed a camera system down there in case you tried to escape. Try being less predictable!” Matthew scoffed. Dee began feeling herself break down.

 

“Less predictable? You want me to be less predictable, Cricket? You goddamned street rat! I’ll show you how unpredictable I can be, bitch!” She hurled the glass shard in a random direction and began blindly flailing her arms and kicking. Hoping not to hit Dennis or Charlie, but knocking down some more objects from the shelves before being restrained by Charlie.

“Calm down, Dee!” Charlie urged.

 

“Calm down, Charlie? You want me to fucking calm down? I just got sprayed in the eyes with bug spray! I think I might be permanently blind! We’re locked in a goddamned basement, we’re wearing shock collars and medieval prison clothes, and you want me to calm down? I am getting out of here, with or without you, Charlie!”

 

“Alright, Dee. Alright! We’re gonna’ get out of here, soon. Ok? But we can’t just be throwing shit around, and like, cutting our hands up with glass and shit like that. We’re gonna’ have to be smart! Ahhh!” Charlie was cut off by a hard spark of his own. The loudspeaker hissed again.

 

“Get to work, dirt grub! The longer it takes you to find those instructions, the more shocks you get!”

 

“Alright, alright! Christ!” Charlie took off into the room searching for Liam's list. Dennis stayed in place, looking almost meditative. Deep in contemplation. He received a shock. Then another. Every time, he winced in pain, but still, he refused to move.

 

“Better get to it, Dennis! I’m not sure how many shocks you can take before passing out, but I’m sure as shit willing to find out!” Matthew said over the loudspeaker. Dennis stood nearly motionless through the pain, a dry smile beginning to form in the corner of his face. Charlie turned with panicked eyes. Waving his friend down frantically, he addressed him.

 

“Hey, Dennis, dude! Come on! We have to find this list and put this stuff away. They’re gonna electrocute us otherwise! Ah!” Charlie clenched his neck in pain.

 

“Motivate your friends better, dirtgrub!” Matthew warned over the loudspeaker.

 

“Ow! Dude! Cricket is a son of a bitch! But we did ruin his life…”

 

“Oh, you are making my life great, right now! This Margaret chick! Totally diggin’ me! Thanks, guys!” Matthew gloated over the loudspeaker.

 

“Ooo! Margaret and Cricket! Gross! Ahhh!”

 

“Fuck you, Dee!”

 

“Ah! Cricket, you son of a bitch! Ahh!” Dee shouted, clasping her neck. Charlie had found the list and was feverishly running through it, beginning to panic when he noticed Dennis still not doing anything, and Dee still being blind. He waved again at Dennis.

 

“Hey, dude! You gotta do something! This shit’s serious! Ahhh!”

 

“Oh, I am.” Dennis smiled, entering that special place in his mind.

 

“Alright, asswipes! Check it. I’m done micromanaging you bitches for a while. This Margaret chick. I assume she’s a freak…” Some mumbling could be heard in the background. “Ok, her brother’s saying ‘oh hell yeah’ and they’re both doing thumbs up. Interesting. So I am going to go into the other room for a while and get all kinds of nasty with her. Maybe her brothers too, if they pay me. We’ll see where the night takes us.”

 

“Oh god damn it, Cricket! Why are you making us think about that? Ahhh!” Dee grabbed her neck.

 

“One more for the road bitch! Hey! You kids have fun tonight, ok? I know I will! Heh heh heh heh heh!”

With that, the horrible hissing sound finally ceased. So did the shocks. Charlie urgently proceeded to follow Liam’s list as well as he could understand it. Liam wrote in those weird squiggly, connected lines that Charlie had never learned, but he was able to get some of it through context. He’d need help.

“Dee! Dee! Is your vision coming back yet?”

 

“Sort of… I can see… blobs. Dark blobs. Why?”

 

“Oh, nothing. I was just hoping you could read something for me.”

 

“Ask Dennis to do it!” Dee shouted.

 

“Yeah, you see, the thing is, Dennis is acting really weird, Dee.”

 

“No shit, he’s acting weird! But he has functioning eyes, boner! Also, Charlie, how is doing what Cricket wants us to do going to get us out of here? We can’t play their game, Charlie!” Dee ranted.

 

“I’m not playing their game, Dee! This is a psych-out. We make ‘em think we’re gonna cooperate, and then we ambush ‘em one at a time!” Charlie exclaimed proudly.

 

“Ambush ‘em one at a time, Charlie? That was really the best plan you could come up with? No, Charlie! We are getting out of here in a much smarter way than that!”

“Oh, please, go on, Dee! Ms. Super Genius over here all of a sudden! What is your master plan, huh?”

 

“Yeah, well you know what, Charlie? Now I’m not going to tell you my goddamned plan! I’m just gonna’ do it, and if you’re smart enough to get it and do it with me, then good for you, Charlie!” Dee snapped.

“Ok” Charlie paused for a while. Dee flashed an uncomfortable look. “So, just to make sure I’m hearing this right, you’re not talking about us having sex, right, Dee? Cause’ like… Dennis is here and stuff, so…”

 

“No Charlie! I was not talking about having sex with you! That wasn’t my plan! God damn it!” Dee snapped at Charlie. ‘How could he be this dumb?’ she thought.

 Dennis finally looked over and stood up.

 

“Dee! I know you and Charlie have been boning! I don’t really give a shit. Don’t worry about me. You guys do you! I’ll let you in on the plan as I come up with it!”

 

“As you come up with it? What the hell have you been doing all this time, you fucking dick?” Dee berated her brother.

 

“Look, ok, Dee. There’s one thing, but… you’re not gonna’ like it.”

“Not gonna to like it… what the fuck, Dennis?”

 

“Well, Dee… You and I might have to bone at some point.”

 

“What? Oh my God, Dennis! Under what circumstances would that ever have to happen?”

 

“Well come on, Dee! We’re dealing with the McPoyles here…”

 

“Oh my god! I am done having this conversation.”

 

“Wait, hear me out…” Dennis pleaded with his sister. She remained shocked and horrified at what he would say next. “Look, all I’m saying is, if it does happen, please don’t make it weird, baby girl. I can make it really nice…”

“Oh god! No, Dennis! Why are you still on this?”

 

“You know, Dee. I really don’t care.” Charlie attempted to assure her.

 

“Oh god, Charlie! Don’t take his side!” Dee complained.

 

“Naw, naw, hear me out! Now, Dennis totally had a point. We’re dealing with the McPoyles. The rules to everything change when you deal with them, and I will bang either one of you, or both of you, for that matter, and any of them to get out of this alive. You have to think about self-preservation here, Dee. If it’s bang or die, I’m not choosing die.”

 

“My god, Charlie! That has got to be the bleakest thing I think I’ve ever heard you say!” Dee reprimanded Charlie.

 

“Oh, what? You’re suddenly too good to bang a McPoyle? You weren’t ten years ago when we got held captive by them. Remember that, Dee?”

 

She did remember. The flight of thoughts. Being forced to wear that oversized pink T-shirt. All that milk drinking. So fucking weird and gross!

 

“Oh god, enough! Just stop! Ok? Enough talk about banging each other, and banging McPoyles, and becoming McPoyles, and...”

 

“Wait, Dee!” Dennis interrupted, “No one said anything about becoming McPoyles! Where did that come from?”

 

“What? Don’t try to flip this on me! You were just talking about banging me, shithead!” Dee retorted.

 

“No… Dee... You’re really taking my words out of context. I wasn’t…”

 

“Whatever, man! You’ve got a crush on your sister. She’s cute. Me and her have banged, like a bunch of times, and I can vouch for her.”

 

“No, no. You see? Charlie, you are also taking me out of context. Also, you sound very much like a McPoyle when you say things like that. You should really think about that.” Dennis interjected.

 

“Charlie! Cut this shit out!” Dee complained

 

“Oh, Dee. Don’t you see? We’re deep in the heart of McPoyle territory now! The only people who survive out here are McPoyles, so you’d better become one right quick, little sister!”

 

“What? Charlie. you’re making this way grosser than it has…”

 

“Shhh shh shhh! Don’t fight it, sister! Just go with it!”

 

“What? Sister? I’m not your sister, Charlie!”

 

“Hush, hush, baby sister! My little uhhh, milk ball.” Charlie attempted a soothing, McPoyle affectation.

 

“Oh god damn it!" Dee vented, "You guys are hopeless! I’m starting to be able to see again. I’m going to start coming up with a plan that doesn’t involve banging relatives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the last chapter; a lot of toxic masculinity coming off of Matthew, or Cricket if you prefer. It couldn't really be avoided, but then, whose behavior can I ever condone among this cast. That being said, I hope he popped here, getting back at the gang. I do actually feel pretty bad for them in this scene, regardless of what a bunch of assholes they are. I hope you guys enjoyed the nudity and violence that I've provided for you. I shoulda' gone into more detail. I will if you like. Let me know, ok guys?


	4. Mac Backstabs Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How loyal is Mac? About as loyal as you might expect of someone with a nickname of "Ronnie the Rat". Frank manages to narrowly evade Mac's tactics, by explaining his planned coup of the bar from the McPoyles. Mac does his best to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is technically a micro-chapter. I was originally going to include it in the next chapter, however that one is already very long, and in order to shorten it, I made this a chapter unto itself. I hope that the dialogue is funny enough to prevent it from being too disappointingly short. I did have to give Mac and Frank some time in the story though. Please stay tuned. The next chapter is longer and more involved by far.

Mac and Frank huddled in the vents of the bar, trying not to be heard. The sweet, acrid smell of milk was already seeping into the chamber, and the heat had been set to a muggy 85 degrees. Mac did his best to avoid breathing the combined stench of warm milk and Frank’s pungent body odor, resulting in a slack-jawed expression that Frank had to consciously force himself not to laugh about.

“Look, we’re gonna get Paddy’s back, but it’s gonna’ take some time, Mac. So you just gotta bear with me, and fucking listen for once!” Frank ordered.

“Ok, so we’re not actually joining up with the McPoyles, then?”

“Of course not! What are you, nuts? Those people are animals! Naw! We’re gonna’ get the bar back from ‘em!”

“Oh, ok. Good. Because, I was thinking of, maybe, backstabbing you, to help the guys. But now I don’t have to. Unless you like, give me a reason to or something. Then I’m totally backstabbing you, dude!”

“Why are you tellin’ me you’re gonna’ backstab me?” Frank asked in shock.

“Well, because, goddamnit! Backstabbing is badass!” Mac insisted.

“No, it ain’t! Backstabbing’s the least badass thing you can do! It actually makes you a huge pussy!”

“What? Dude! Did I look like a pussy when I betrayed Dee and Dennis and Charlie?” Mac asked.

“Oh yeah! A complete pussy! I was just thinkin’ that whole time. ‘Yep! That’s Mac! The biggest pussy I know! Figures he’d go for this.!’”

“Dude! What about being a backstabber makes me look like a pussy? Don’t make me backstab you!”

“There ya’ go again. How ain’t you gettin’ this, Mac?” Frank taunted.

“You know what? Just forget it, Frank! So what’s the plan, Frank?”

“Hmm? Oh! The Plan! Well, the plan is this, Mac. I currently have 35% of the shares of this bar, as its manager. I only need 51% to turn the tables on this whole outfit. Cricket owns a whopping’ ten percent, for bangin’ that McPoyle broad. I’m gonna’ snake that bastard’s shares. The other six percent... I’ll swipe some from the Snail, and some from one of the dumber McPoyles.”

“Ah, gotcha! So like, Margaret?” Mac piped in.

“Naw, not that broad! She ain’t dumb!” Frank interrupted.

“What? C'mon, Frank! Margaret’s dumb as shit!” Mac insisted. Frank shook his head.

“That’s what she wants you to think. She’s only pretending to be dumb. And she’s only pretending to be deaf. She can hear. She just can’t talk. You gotta’ be careful with that broad! She’s dangerous!”

“Oh my god, Frank! You are being so stupid right now!”

“Nuh uh uh! I swear! I’ve seen the way she and her brothers scheme together. She knows what’s up. Besides. She tricked you into banging her twice.”

“Frank, don’t remind me of that.” Mac pleaded.

“What? It happened. Twice.”

“Goddamnit Frank! Great! Now I forgot the plan! Explain it again!” Frank sighed and began to reiterate.

 ______________________________________________________________________________


	5. Sweet Dee Takes a Snail Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sweet Dee receives help from an unexpected source. Being resourceful, Dee seizes the opportunity for freedom, hoping that Dennis and Charlie find their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit! This chapter was so much fun to write! If you couldn't tell, I love the character Gail "The Snail". She's got such a one of a kind voice and is so enjoyable and funny to write for. This also gave me an opportunity to start making Dee very awesome. I recognize what a nasty person she is, but it's undeniable, she can be really cool sometimes. The same goes for everyone else in the Gang. It's part of the appeal of the show, and any fan being honest with themselves can't deny it. 
> 
> I am dedicating this chapter specifically to a friend of mine who I have known for a long time, and who was the first person I had read my story before I joined the community. She knows who she is, and if you're out there reading this, you know I love you! And this Gail heavy chapter is all for you!

About twenty minutes had passed in the basement. Dee’s eyesight had recovered well enough to read the instructions, now, and she was giving dictation to Charlie, who was cleaning up the mess the Cricket had left on the floor. It was pretty easy to do, now that it was coordinated. Dennis still wasn’t being much help. Both Dee and Charlie suspected that he was fantasizing about having sex with Dee. Charlie silently agreed, while also noting that he’d have sex with Dennis as well. Dee seemed to be the only one not on board with all of this. Suddenly, their horrible silent thoughts were interrupted by a familiar hissing sound.

“Oh, Goddamnit! That didn’t take you very long, Cricket!” Dee shouted. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn’t being shocked. Who could it be?

“Alright, who’s up there? Margaret?” Dee shouted.

“Naw, dude. Margaret would’ve shocked you like, five times by now!” Charlie responded.

Another hiss of the radio. A familiar slurping sound, and then silence again.

“Gail?” Dee said, annoyed. “Gail, I know that’s you up there.”

‘Wait a second! Gail loves me! I can swing this my way,’ Dee thought.

“Oh, hey. Gail? I’m actually glad that you’re watching me!” Dee said, as sweetly as she could muster.

A pause for a moment. Then the radio predictably hissed.

“Really? You’re glad I’m watching you, Dee? That’s cool!” Gail responded.

“Yeah! Yeah, it is cool Gail, it is! We’re cousins. Yeah! So, I was wondering. Are you doing anything important right now?”

Dee tried to small talk, knowing what a mark Gail was for any amount of attention from her.

“Oh, it’s no big D, Dee. Milky P’s entourage just told me to look after you. We’re dating by the way! Me and Milky P!” Gail said proudly.

Dee looked confused.

“Milky P? Who the shit is that?” Dee couldn’t hold in her annoyance.

“Milky Princess, duh! The new princess of Philly. Used to be you, now it’s her. Get with the program, Dee!”

“What the fuck are you talking about Gail?”

“Margaret McPoyle’s nickname is Milky Princess. She got it from her brothers. And they want her to sit on the throne of Philadelphia, as its queen!” Gail recalled excitedly.

“I am still totally lost! So, you’re dating Margaret McPoyle?”

“Oh yeah! I’m totally bi, Dee! You jelly?” Gail sassed.

“Not at all, Gail. But, you should know, your gross girlfriend is totally boning this gross homeless guy.” Dee informed her.

“Oh yeah. I know about him. He’s my boyfriend. We’re totes a thruple, Dee. You jelly?”

“No, I’m not… oh, wait. You’re not really dating either of them, are you?” Dee said, in irritation.

“Uhh… yeah right! As if I’d even make something like that up!” Gail insisted.

“Gail, what was all that shit about sitting on the throne of Philadelphia? You sounded like a madwoman!” Dennis chimed in from the background.

“Oh Hey, Dennis! Didn’t know you were paying attention. Anyway, whoever owns the pub owns the portal to the throne of Philadelphia. I thought everyone knew that!” Gail stated in a semi-mocking tone.

“No Gail! That is bullshit! There is no throne of Philadelphia, and Frank was not the king of Philadelphia for the last eleven years. And Liam McPoyle is not the king of Philadelphia now. I can’t believe you’re even saying any of this shit!” Dee shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Settle down, Dee.” Dennis attempted to calm his sister.

“Let Gail have her wild fantasies. It doesn’t hurt us in this situation. We’re being framed up as a noble Prince and Princess, and that’s not so bad. We can use that, Dee.”

Dennis met eyes with Dee, making sure she followed his logic. Fortunately, she did. It was her original plan.

“Oh yeah, totes! You guys are totes noble.” Gail responded.

“Yeah, so, since we’re the cool ones, why don’t you help us escape? That would be a cool thing to do for a princess, wouldn’t it?” Dee smiled. She waited for what felt like minutes, listening for the radio hiss. Finally, she heard it.

“The two of you both have to be my best friends if I do this! That Charlie guy too, if I help him.”

“No way!” Charlie threw his hands up.

“C’mon! Just ask Dee!” Dennis deflected.

“Oh, goddamnit! Look, I’ll make sure you’re mentioned in this medieval saga that you’re telling us about! Everyone will think you’re so cool for helping me!”

“Gimme a royal title, Dee! I wanna be a princess like you!” Gail insisted.

“You cannot be a princess, Gail… ok, you know what, fine. You can be Lady Gail, the Duchess of Snails. How does that strike you?” a pause, and a moment later.

“Alright. I’ll be right down to let you out! Don’t tell Milky P, ok! She’ll be totes steamed at me!” with that, the hiss of the radio ceased.

“My god! This is insane, even for us!” Dee declared.

“Her story checks out, you know!” Charlie followed a non-sequitor thought.

“What, you mean that ludicrous nonsense that Gail was saying? Come on, Charlie. Not a word of it was true! I mean come on! Milky P?” Dennis chuckled. Charlie raised his finger in disagreement.

“No. See, this is where you’re wrong, Dennis. I have started following the McPoyles, observing their habits, just in case an occasion such as this arises. There are some very interesting power dynamics at play in that family.”

“Wait, hold up a minute. You’ve been stalking the McPoyles? What would’ve possessed you to do that, Charlie? And where do you find time to do that, between your schedule working at Paddy’s and stalking the waitress?” Dennis questioned.

“Oh, I stopped stalking the waitress, like, a long time ago. Naw, I’m done with her. I’ve moved on to banging Dee.”

“Charlie, Charlie! You’ve gone way off topic, bro! You were stalking the McPoyles! Why were you doing that?” Dennis demanded.

“Because I was worried about what their next move would be. They’re like, our worst enemies!” Charlie stressed the word ‘worst’ for emphasis. Dennis shook his head and smiled.

“The McPoyles are not our worst enemies unless by worst you mean shittiest!” Dennis attempted to correct Charlie.

“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Dennis. Here’s the thing. These monsters are born into a world where everything’s a scam. They’re born schemers! Born inbreeders too. Never trust a McPoyle! They’re way smarter than they look or act most of the time. It’s all a ruse!” Charlie warned.

“Ok, but Charlie, even if any of this is true.”

“Which it’s not!” Dee interrupted.

“Hey! This is an A – B conversation here. No room for Dee! Anyway, even if any of this is true, which I seriously doubt, it still doesn’t mean any of that Throne of Philadelphia madness is real! I’m pretty sure that was made up on the spot.” Dennis tried to ground his friend.

“Here’s what you’re not seeing, Dennis! Those McPoyles have been playing dumb for a very long time. I already told you about that, and you don’t seem to be getting it. You notice those drive through Dairy markets that are starting to appear literally everywhere in the city? All of those are run and operated by a McPoyle. All the video rentals in the area. All bought out by McPoyles. Practically every auto shop at the borders of town? McPoyle owned and run! Paddy’s was the lynchpin site, preventing the McPoyles from taking the whole city. But that makes it important, Dennis! Don’t you see? We’ve been keeping those monsters at bay for more than a decade now!”

“Ok, Charlie. You’re really exaggerating the significance of all this. There’s like a million of them. Of course, they’re going to own a lot of property in the city. In no way does this make them masterminds.”

“See, that’s the thing, dude. I’ve been following them. Watching them. I know what drives them. I see where this is all heading. The social structure of the McPoyle hierarchy is actually far more complex and fascinating than I could have ever imagined. For instance, Liam and Margaret, they’re both really feared and hated by most of the McPoyle line, but they’re also super revered and influential in all the plotting that’s been going on in the household of McPoyle for the past twenty years. They are the future of the line, or rather the force that’s driving the McPoyle’s into the future.”

“Enough! Charlie, you think I believe any of this? The McPoyles are all deeply inbred, and severely retarded, especially Margaret. I made out with her during the whole hostage situation, and I can assure you, there was no one home!”

“Don’t you find it strange, Dennis, that an extremely plain Jane like her was able to seduce you with so little effort?” Charlie prodded. Dennis became stern.

“She did not seduce me, Charlie! I was seducing her. She was too deaf and stupid to really understand that.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Dennis. You see, she knew your psychology well enough to understand that you would target her as part of your exit strategy. She is well aware of the D.E.N.N.I.S. system and was even using some of your own techniques against you. She had planned to bang you that whole time because Margaret wants a Reynolds baby. It’s part of the McPoyle master plan that she and Liam have been brewing. The McPoyle line, you see, is mostly matrilineal, which is why they put so much emphasis on keeping their bloodline pure and clean. But if, for instance, she were to have a bastard child with someone out of her own bloodline, that child would be hers, and therefore… a McPoyle! She had all of us convinced that she was deaf. It was very convincing. A fine show indeed.”

“My god! Just stop, Charlie! Are you hearing this, Dee?” Dennis turned to his sister, who was now standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for the door to open.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, about the McPoyles, and ruling the city, and all that junk? I don’t give a shit.” Dee casually responded.

“Well, you can’t actually believe any of it, right?” Dennis persisted. Dee shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not. All I care about is getting out of here. What the fuck is taking Gail so long?” Dee said impatiently.

“By the way, Dee. Letting Gail help you? Horrible plan! I wouldn’t trust that bitch any farther than I could salt her. Besides that, how can you even entertain the notion that any of the verbal diarrhea that Charlie is currently spewing is true?” Dennis reiterated. Dee shrugged.

“Look, I said I don’t care. That’s all Dennis. I never said I believe it. The part where Philadelphia is a kingdom in the iron age, I don’t buy that for a second. Margaret McPoyle outsmarting you? I’m not ruling it out.” Dee smirked very subtly, seeing the irritation build on Dennis’s face. She knew she’d burned him with this one.

“Unbelievable! Margaret McPoyle did not outsmart me!”

“Well, she definitely outsmarted Mac.” Dee replied casually.

“Oh yeah, twice! And he’s gay!” Charlie jumped in. Dennis was very tired of both Charlie and Dee.

“Mac is not hard to outsmart, and you know what? She probably got help from her brothers at least one of those times! And I am so much smarter than Mac! You both know that!”

“Ok, Dennis. I said it doesn’t matter.”

Dee intentionally did not respond to the part of Dennis’s statement that he cared to hear a response for.

‘If he wants to stay here and daydream about banging me,’ she thought, ‘I sure as shit don’t have to coddle his ego.’

She was so done with this nonsense, but she still wanted to give Charlie a chance to escape with her at least. He had been cooperating, and the two worked pretty well as a team usually. She turned to face Charlie.

“So I’m leaving here, Charlie. I was thinking of escaping through the sewers, but I thought we could go together if you were up to it?” Dee offered. Charlie shook his head to Dee’s astonishment.

“Nay! This plan is not a good one. The McPoyles will track us down in a day's time. A better plan formulates in my mind. Dee, we need to find Pappy McPoyle!” Charlie insisted.

“Pappy McPoyle? What are you on about Charlie?” Dee snapped back.

“The keeper of Royal McPoyal, Dee. Don’t you see? He OR She who controls the birds, controls the land. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Charlie stated, bordering on madness in his delivery.

“You’re calling me a bird? Right, Charlie? Real original!”

“No, Dee! Actually, yes sort of. But see, here’s the thing. You’re a princess! Not just any princess, but the Lady of Birds! You can summon Royal McPoyal to do your bidding, along with any other bird of high breeding! We need you and your bond with birds, Dee!”

“I don’t have a bond with birds, Charlie! Where is any of this coming from?” Dee complained.

“You know what? I’m just escaping by myself. I was going to take you boners with me, but you appear to have no sense of self-preservation, so have fun here!”

Dee screeched, crossing her arms. She stared at the door for a few more seconds until she finally heard the knob turn. God, she hoped it didn’t turn out to be Cricket or one of the McPoyles. A disgusting drool slurp later, and all doubts were removed. The door opened. Gail stood over Dee, offering her grubby hand to help her to her feet. Dee refused and stood up on her own. Gail gawkishly peered around to find Charlie, who was still organizing the basement, and Dennis, who appeared to be meditating possibly.

“You guys not coming? Dee and I are gonna get pretty wild later!” Gail drooled.

“Gail, that is not happening! You are taking me directly to the alley!”

“Right, and then we’re gonna go bar hopping!”

“No! Goddamn it! I never promised you that! Just get me out of here, Gail! Goddamn it!”

“Alright alright. And then you’ll call me later on! Right, Dee?”

“Just get me out of here, goddamn it, Gail!”

“Great plan, Dee!” Dennis snarked from downstairs.

“Go fuck yourself, Dennis!” Dee growled.

“C’mon, let’s go!” she ordered.

The scrunchy, congested girl took her by the hand and lead her towards the back of the bar, closing and locking the basement door as she left, and leaving Dennis and Charlie to fend for themselves. Gail’s hand squished as it clenched around Deandra’s bony digits. Her hands always felt wet. Dee had no idea how she managed. She used to reason with Dennis that it was her snail mucus when they were kids. Under any other circumstance she wouldn’t have let her hold her hand but given the situation, she was willing to take any assistance that came her way. 

Gail managed to sneak her to the back door, as the sounds of loud lovemaking from the restroom were drowning out all of the clatterings that Gail made along the way, carelessly bumping barstools and tables on her way. Dee recognized that Dennis had a point earlier. Gail was possibly the worst person she could have found to help her. But she’d managed to make it work. That’s what mattered. Dee spotted the entrance to the storm drain peering just at the other side of the street across from the alley. She let go of Gail’s moist, gooey palm. She wiped her hand off on her scruffy prisoner skirt and took off down the alley.

“Thanks, Gail!” Dee said obligatorily, not bothering to look back.

“Hold up, Dee! I’m coming with you! We’ll be like, fugitive princesses!” Gail started trailing after her. Dee heard her skulky cousin’s rapid footsteps. She took this as a cue to speed up, and not look back. She’d have to do a baseball slide once she got to the sewer entrance. As she barreled toward the street, suddenly a rushing loud noise from her right. A semi zoomed right by, forcing Dee to stop in her tracks. Shit! She could hear Gail right over her shoulder now, and she saw other cars coming from both directions.

“Gail! Go back to the fucking bar! You are not coming with me!” Dee ordered her slouchy cousin. Gail shrugged.

“I can’t go back, Dee! Milky P’s totally gonna dump me when she finds out I let you go. She like, totally hates you, Dee!” Gail warned.

Dee felt the frustration and defeat start to well up inside her. ‘Stay cool, Dee!’ she thought to herself. ‘You’ll think of something.’ Suddenly, it hit her.

“Gail, we can’t do this together. You’re not good at stealth type situations at all, but the good news is, you’re not really being hunted, whereas I am. Therefore, you don’t need to hide. Meet me at the TGI Fridays on Main in two hours…”

“Uh uh! No way, Dee! I’m not gonna meet you at a TGI Friday’s. It doesn’t fit the theme at all!” Gail demanded. Dee could not believe what she was hearing.

“My god, Gail!” Dee hissed.

“Hey! Let’s meet at the Round Table Pizza, Dee! They have beer there, so like, it’s win-win!”

Dee could feel her face contracting into a grimace. She raised a hand up next to her face and narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t as if she liked abandoning her cousin. The pangs of guilt definitely haunted her from time to time, particularly at times like this, when she was actually being helpful, but Christ! Did she have to make every moment of their time spent together so intensely irritating?

‘Goddamn, it Gail! It’s not my fault you’re so completely unlikable!’ she thought. Whatever. Just promise her anything.

“Alright, fine! We’ll meet at the Round Table down the street from the TGI Friday’s. Just meet me in two hours, ok? I don’t have any time to waste here, ok?”

Dee said, finding a break in traffic. She picked up speed, and B-lined for the drain, not waiting for Gail’s response.

“Ok, well… I guess I’ll see you in two hours, Dee! I’ll bring some medical pot!”

Dee could barely hear Gail anymore. In a moment, she let herself duck into a clean slide, darting straight into the storm drain, just as a car began to approach. One slightly damp fall on her backside later, and she was free. Finally!

She tried to tug at her collar, looking for any weak spots from when she attempted to cut it. No such luck. These things were reinforced. The glass hadn’t even made a slit in the goddamned thing. She was going to need to find better tools. But that was all just shit to think about later, she thought. What she needed to do now was put some distance between herself and the bar.

She looked up at the last rays of daylight peered through the vent, thinking about Charlie and Dennis for a moment.

‘I hope those boners get out of this alive.’ She thought wistfully, brushing her flaxen hair out of her eyes.

She took one last breath while mentally saying goodbye to Paddy’s for what she thought may be the last time, and then pivoted on her heel, and took off in a dash down the dimly lit corridor before her.


	6. Frank Reynolds: The Warthog King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! Quite a posting I've left this week. I really went all out here, so let me know what you think! I'm hoping the allusion to Game of Thrones is beginning to show at this point. Even if not, it was a hell of a lot of fun to write this, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it! The action is really heating up for the gang, and I'm hoping your liking all their various ascended forms at this point. I believe I really made Franky boy shine at the end! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!

Frank’s phone buzzed in his pocket for what must have been the fiftieth time in the last twenty minutes. He continued to ignore the pestering device and tried to focus on his job over all of the noise being made in the bathroom.

 _God damn!_ he thought, _How long are they gonna’_ be at _it in there? And Jesus, why is Cricket so goddamn loud when he bangs?_

But none of this mattered. What’s important is getting the bar back. That’s all that matters.  Can’t let these goddamn McPoyles win! Suddenly, a buzz on Frank’s walkie-talkie. That he’d answer.

“Mac to frank! Come in, Frank!” Frank picked up and pressed the button.

“I hear ya, buddy. What’s up?” Frank answered.

“Frank, dude. I’m bored as shit here, man! I do not fit in with this McPoyle crowd, like at all, and that girl in the bathroom? I used to bone her when I was still pretending to be straight. Thinking about that just brings back bad memories.” Mac responded.

“Why don’t ya’ bang one of the dudes?”  Frank suggested. Mac made a disgusted face which Frank missed, not being in the same room with him.

“Bang a McPoyle? Gross dude. I’m done with that sort of shit! My standards went way up since I came out. Anyhow, what’s the action? There’s gotta’ be something I can do!”

Frank thought about it for a good minute. He really hated when the young man started to get clingy. That’s why he told him to patrol the bar in the first place. But what good could he actually be at this point? Hmm… That might work.

“Hey, Mac? Why don’t you go downstairs to the basement and fill Dennis and Charlie in on the plan, so’s they can stop worryin’. I mean, it’s been fun letting them little shits get tortured, but it’s time to let ‘em in on things.”

“What do I tell the McPoyles, then, if they ask me what I was doing down there?”

“Who gives a shit? You tell ‘em you went down there to torture ‘em! Bang ‘em! It don’t matter what answer you give ‘em so long as you ain’t telling them the truth!” Frank responded. _God damn, that Mac kid is dumb!_

“Right, so I go down there, and I torture them just a little, to make it look real. Then we bang, so he knows I didn’t mean it with the torture?” Mac asked

“God no, you fuckin’ moron! You don’t do any of that shit! You just come up with an excuse for why you were down there! It’s not that hard!” Frank shouted.

“Ok, Jesus Christ, Frank! Where is all this anger coming from, all of a sudden? Wait, so what am I supposed to do?”

“Fuck! Just go to the goddamned basement, and tell Charlie and Dennis that we’re takin’ the fuckin' bar back!”

“Alright, alright, Frank. I’m going. I’ll be right back after I bang, and slightly injure your son.” Mac turned his walkie-talkie of.

Frank’s face contorted into pure aggravation and rage. _How the fuck did he manage to make it to this age being this stupid?_

Mac used his basement key and unlocked the door which was holding Dennis and Charlie prisoner. The two turned their heads to view the entering figure, as he closed the door behind himself.

“Hey, what’s up guys! Where’s Dee?” Mac asked. Dennis sighed shallowly.

“Dee escaped with the Snail. She said she was going to the sewer.”

“What, dude? She let the Snail help her escape? What a stupid plan! Just the sort of half-assed strategy I’d expect from a bird like her.” Mac said.

“Why have you come to mock us, traitor?!” Charlie challenged, with a slightly mad tone. Mac shook his head at Charlie and looked to address both of them.

“Naw dude. I’m not a traitor. That’s what I came down here to tell you about. See, Frank and I have been putting a plan together to get the bar back into its rightful hands, but we needed them to believe that we were on their side. That’s why I’m gonna have to kick your asses.” Mac said wearing his signature ‘badass’ expression, striking a cliched karate stance. Dennis peered a hole straight through Mac’s deep, brown eyes.

“Bro, you don’t want to do this…” Dennis stated, still staying cool and detached. “I have been channeling my self-control in preparation to strike at the right moment, and I don’t think you want to be on the receiving end of that, Mac.” Dennis warned. Charlie shook his finger and grinned wildly.

“My god, Dennis. Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Brilliant! And to think, I was under the impression that all you were doing was fantasizing about banging your sister!”

Mac’s jaw dropped at Charlie’s suggestion.

“What the fuck, dude? I’m definitely gonna’ have to rough you up now!” Mac threatened, beginning to walk down the stairs.

“Look, dude! I wasn’t thinking about banging Dee. Charlie’s taking something I said out of context.”

“Wait? So you’re not on board with the whole ‘becoming a McPoyle’ plan anymore?”

“I was never on board with that plan, Charlie! My god! You just gave up instantly, didn’t you? Look, I am really pissed right now, dude. I didn’t wanna’ take it out on you or Dee. I will take it out on you, Mac. So don’t test me!” Dennis declared, pointing a serious finger. Mac felt offended. A look of betrayal crossed his face.

“What, you’ll take it out on me? What the fuck dude? What did I do?”

“Well, for starters, you backstabbed us back when Frank took us prisoner. Oh, also, you’re saying you’re going to kick my ass right now. I’d say I have plenty of reason to let you taste my wrath, bro!” Dennis puffed out his chest and took a Dennis Reynolds battle stance. Proud. Nobel. Graceful. Ready to destroy his foe. Mac was becoming furious at his friend’s completely unjustified rage. He pointed a finger back at Dennis.

“Fuck you, Dennis! I was planning to backstab Frank if he wasn’t planning on helping you guys, and I’m only beating your ass so the McPoyles won’t suspect me, although now I actually am getting mad bro!” Mac took a basic martial arts stand, striking a serious and dramatic facial pose. Dennis began to mildly quiver, stretching and tensing his muscles to prepare his body for battle.

_The Golden God may have to shine early this evening._

“Oh Mac, you will not lay a finger on me, and you will beg for mercy! For you have kindled the ire of the Golden God, and my fury shall be blinding!”

Dennis took a ready battle stance, holding one hand in front of him, his body sloped backward from Mac. Mac lunged forward with a palm strike, making a whooshing sound with his mouth as he drove his had towards Dennis’s face.

 _What a waste of the Golden God’s time!_  Dennis thought.

He smoothly dodged Mac’s strike, lunging behind his back, and grabbing his other arm, twisting it backward, and holding it firmly in place with the elbow bent, applying pressure to the bend in the joint. Dennis applied torsion to the hold and felt Mac’s muscles straining. Before Dennis could even start to process the twisting Mac’s arm, he heard his former best friend scream in a rather pathetic and feeble voice.

“Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ok! Mercy! Mercy! Mercy! Dude, Mercy!” Mac cried out. Dennis furrowed his brow. This was so unworthy of him.

“Mac, are you serious? That was not challenging or satisfying in the least!” Dennis reprimanded. Mac squinted hard and tried to hold back tears. It was only barely working.

“Just let go, man! This move you put on me, it really hurts!” Mac squirmed in pain as Dennis refused to release the hold, mostly for the sake of vengeance.

“Mac, your plan just changed! Understand me? You came down here to torture the prisoners, but you grossly underestimated their skill level, while grossly overestimating your own! Now you have been captured by the prisoners, and you have no choice but to escort them out of the bar, and into the world! Do you understand?” Dennis instructed, allowing his supple wrist to pivot slightly, torquing Mac’s wrist ever so slightly more, and feeling the shudder come over Mac’s body as he shifted in discomfort.

“Oh god! Don’t make me say that Dennis! It makes me look like a pussy! Ow! Jesus dude, stop twisting!”

“You are a pussy, Mac! A huge pussy! And you’re going to get me out of here because you’re too weak to tolerate a little bit of pain! So let’s get moving!” Dennis ordered.

Mac hated every second of this. The twisting sensation in his wrist. The fact that he hadn’t managed to land a single hit on his opponent. The fact that every aspect of his plan had utterly failed. That Dennis was now telling him what to do. The fact that this man, who had been his best friend since high school, who he had been through uncounted adventures with, couldn’t even return a simple ‘I love you.’ He felt like an utter failure right now, being firmly controlled by a man wearing rags and a shock collar. Mac was humiliated. Devastated. He fought back tears with every fiber of self-restraint he had left.

“Fine, ok! You win! Just please let go of my arm, dude! I think it’s broken now!” Mac insisted. Dennis loosened the grip but didn’t let go.

“No way, Mac! I need some kind of insurance that you won’t turn on me again. I’m keeping you in this hold until we’re out of the bar. Then we can talk.” Dennis insisted, aiming Mac in the direction of the stairs. Dennis motioned his head towards Charlie, who sprang forward and followed Dennis’s lead.

“Alright, dudes! Now we’re talking! Let’s go find Pappy McPoyle!” Charlie proclaimed. Dennis and Mac both looked confused.

“Find Pappy McPoyle? Goddamn it Charlie! That was never part of the plan!” Dennis insisted.

“No, it is the plan! It’s like, fully central to the plan, dude! We gotta’ go find him, dude!”

“Charlie! Just let that shit go, ok? We’re not doing that plan!” Dennis shouted.

He took control of Mac, forcing him up the stairs. Mac couldn’t deny, being completely at the mercy of Dennis’s whim was a fantasy he’d had on more than one occasion. Feeling his body go slightly limp as he allowed Dennis to direct him. It wasn’t how he’d imagined it though, and the fact that Charlie was present to witness was killing any pleasure he could have derived from this. No, this was wholly unenjoyable. Like imaging Dee naked unenjoyable. Or running into a large, easily enraged Doyle McPoyle at the top of the stairs. Wait? Was that really happening? Mac did a double take when he saw the extremely large, hideous McPoyle giant at the top of the stairs. Oh shit! Mac pointed behind himself at Dennis.

“He did it, dude! I was just going down there to torture him, and he got the upper hand.” Mac said immediately, as if by instinct. Dennis furrowed his brow deeply.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Again? Instantly you betray me! Unbelievable!”

Doyle, confused and angry, lunged at both men, spearing the two of them to the ground at once. Charlie seized the opportunity to spring over Doyle, sprinting for the door.

“So long guys! Be back when I’ve found you know who!” Charlie said, sprinting for the exit.

Doyle, unsure of whether to chase down Charlie, or shove Dennis back in the dungeon and Mac too for good measure. He decided on the latter, taking both men in a headlock and leading them down the stairs, roughly. Dennis held his breath, both to minimize the fact that his air supply was all but completely cut off, and to avoid smelling Doyle’s overpowering sour milk odor. The big man hurled the two prisoners to the ground, pointing a finger in warning.

“You two stay put! I’m locking the door until I find your friend, and get him…wait, where’s the girl?” Doyle growled.

“Oh, Dee escaped like a half hour ago with Gail. Goodluck finding her!” Dennis mocked. Doyle paused and thought about this for a moment. His large nostrils flared. He burned a hole into the two men with his fiery gaze.

“Shit! Alright, just don’t move or try to escape again… you!” Doyle pointed at Mac aggressively.

Mac pointed to himself with a look of confusion.

“Yeah, you! Give me your basement key! You’re not getting out of here again.”

Doyle began to angrily frisk Mac, pulling the keys to the bar and his wallet from his jean pockets. He confiscated both, and ran up the stairs, slamming the door, with one final warning of “No more bullshit!”

Doyle looked to the back door, noting Charlie had indeed escaped in the commotion. This by itself wouldn’t have been too difficult to handle but for the fact that he also had to deal with Dee’s escape. He decided he’d better call everyone together on this, It would take a team effort. He banged loudly on the bathroom door, where Margaret, Matthew, and Ryan had disappeared to however long ago, and shouted

“Family meeting, lovebirds! Get your asses out here! We’ve had a security breach!”

A clamor could be heard in the restroom, as the three rushed to discontinue whatever activity they were engaged in, and pull their clothes back on. Doyle banged on the door to the back office, believing Liam was there. He heard Frank’s voice answer.

“Yeah, whadda you want?”

“We’ve had a security breach! Two, actually! Where’s Liam?” Doyle howled. Frank opened the door, looking irritated.

“Liam stepped out! You say you had a security breach? What the fuck did you do, shithead?” Frank snarled, wiping potato chip grease on one pant leg as he approached his chief of security. Doyle looked down and away in a dejected manner, not used to being talked to in such a harsh tone.

“Well you see Mr. Warthog sir, I was just trying to secure the prisoners. That new guy that you hired. The prissy cute one who tries to act tough. He’d gone and got himself taken hostage by the prisoners. Now I didn’t have the collar remote, because Cricket still has it, so I had to apprehend them with physical force…”

“Them? You mean Dennis and Charlie?” Frank asked.

“No, Dennis and the new guy. I had to take them down!”

“You took down Mac instead of Charlie, ya’ moron!?! Why would you do a dumbass thing like that?”

“Well because, Mr. Warthog…”

“Warthog King!” Frank demanded. Doyle looked baffled.

“Sir?”

“You fucked up, so obviously you need to understand the chain of command better. Therefore, you will now refer to me as your king until otherwise instructed, capiche?” Frank commanded.

“Yes, my king. Now as I was saying, I took down Mac and Dennis, and I had them in my custody, but the little squirrely one had managed to avert my attention until after he was already past me. So I took the two that I did have down to prison, and came out to alert everyone else, and…”

“Wait, you threw Mac in prison? Why?”

“Because, Mr. Warthog… King. He allowed himself to be captured. He’s weak, and a liability, and he probably would’ve backstabbed us.”

“You got a point. But you said there were two prison breaks. What happened to Deandra?”

“Well, I wasn’t there for that, my king.” Doyle stammered in a manner almost wholly alien to him. Frank’s pudgy little face began to turn blood red, a large vein bulging in his forehead.

“You weren’t there, for that? What the fuck were you doing.”

Doyle began sweating profusely. He was not used to being treated this way in his own family, and he realized this was not a problem that he could solve with force as he was accustomed to doing. He tried to remember the events that had transpired.

“I think at that point, I was watching Margaret give that Cricket guy a milk enema, my King. Or maybe it was when she was feeding him cigarette butts that we found on the floor.” Doyle admitted sheepishly. Frank shook his head.

“Unbelievable! So you didn’t leave no one on duty when them two were bangin’?”

“Three, my king. Ryan was involved too. That Snail girl tried to get in on the action, but none of them wanted to do stuff with her, so they put her on guard detail.”

Frank clenched his fists, “You left my fuck up niece on security? What were you assholes thinkin’?”

“Ok, I was supposed to be on guard too, but Margaret was just so hot, the way she was playing with that Cricket guy. I couldn’t take my eyes off my Milky Princess. Not until I’d, you know… relived myself.” Doyle shamefully admitted.

“So what you’re saying is, you let our prisoner escape so you could blow your load watching a toothless drug addict plow your sister?”

Doyle instinctively put his hands up in a fashion to dismiss Frank’s claims, but seeing the steel cold gaze that his king fixed upon him, conceded.

“Yes, your highness! That is exactly what happened.” Doyle bowed his head. Frank looked over his disgraced underling with disgust and waved him off.

“Go gather up a hunting party and split them up to find the two prisoners. Oh, and pack up your shit, cause your fired! Kay?” Frank forced a very mean and sarcastic smile, waving his hand in Doyle’s face.

“Yu… yes Mr. Warthog, sir.” Doyle looked downward.

“Uh uh uh, king! You still call me king as long as you work for me!” Frank insisted.

“Yes Mr. Warthog King, sir.”

“Thaaaat’s better. Now go! Complete your king’s final order.” Frank dismissed the giant, hulking man.

As he left, Frank relished a wicked, candid grin. Now with Doyle and Gail’s shares transferring to him upon their termination, he edged that much closer to being the majority shareholder.

 _Only Cricket left to go_ , Frank thought, _and then, king me_ baby _!_


	7. Frank's Hunting Hounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Reynolds does not like being let down. When an employee disappoints him, they always pay the price for letting down their king. And now that Frank has gathered his foolish underlings together, it is time that they learn the hard way what it's like to fail on his watch. But is it really a wise decision to let his wrath out on the McPoyles? Only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday evening! Time for more Gang of Thrones! Woohoo! So, this is actually the first chapter that I've ever written on the week of release so far. I had a difficult time getting myself to do this, and I was on hiatus for a while from GoT, but you wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't said anything. In that same vein, you might not have known that there are no Round Table Pizza's in Philadelphia. I'm going to replace that once I come up with an appropriately themed restaurant. Aside from that though, I feel like this actually went really well. Frank is always a lot of fun to write, and I like the dynamic between the McPoyles and Cricket, as well as between Frank and the Mcpoyles. Please let me know what you think in the comments. I love to hear from my audience, and I hope that you're sufficiently excited for what's to come. Let the hunt begin!

Within three minutes, the bathroom had turned out, and its inhabitants fully clothed, standing in a straight row. All wore the grimmest of expressions, save for Margaret, whose face radiated with uncontainable joy. Frank sat quietly in the background, picking at a stack of sandwich meats, cheeses and bread, as he often did. He watched with a sadistic fervor as the humiliated and defeated Doyle paced in front of his colleagues. The wild warthog king cast an aggressive stare upon Margaret McPoyle, who appeared to take notice, further raising the ire of an already enraged monarch.

“You wipe that saccharin grin off your creepy little mug, possum girl! You’re in just as much shit as the rest of yer’ little gang bang!” Frank shouted, pointing furiously in her direction.

 _I definitely preferred the gang to the gang bang!_ Frank thought. _I can’t wait to get shit back to normal!_

Margaret lost her prideful smile and donned the blank, vacant expression which Frank was used to seeing on her, before she slowly made eye contact with him, maintaining a frightening intensity. Frank blinked. He refocused his eyes in order to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting things, Margaret did not break eye contact once.

Frank tried to remain removed and authoritative, but Margaret’s emotionless gaze began to undermine his confidence to the point where he could no longer keep his eyes fixed. He averted his eyes for just a moment, which was all that Margaret needed. She waited for Frank to make eye contact again, then licked her lips and flashed him a wicked smirk, before going dead-eyed again. Frank held in a shudder and refocused his attention on the rest of the party. He grew tired of waiting for the situation to progress, and after more than a minute of uncomfortable silence inserted himself.

“Look, you gonna’ get this shit show started, big man, or am I gonna have to do it for ya’? Cause if that’s the case, just get the fuck out right now! You're fired!” Frank threatened.

Doyle curled his shoulders, and cast a dejected look in Frank’s direction, almost like a wounded puppy.

“Yes, you’re highness. I will take my leave now, my Warthog king!” Doyle groveled. It felt so unnatural, but he could not fight it. The man had broken his spirit in every conceivable way. He had ended his professional sports career, and now he was ending his career in security. For all intents and purposes, Frank Reynolds was his angle of death.

Ryan reached up to lend a sympathetic hand to Doyle’s shoulder, and give him a quick glance of genuine remorse. Doyle returned the glance. A single, silvery tear rolled down his rough face. The two brothers met in an embrace as Matthew turned his head to observe the spectacle. He was more confused than he was genuinely moved, but the tension of the moment wasn’t lost on him. Margaret did not turn her head for an instant or acknowledge what was going on. It was difficult to read her true intent, but clearly, she was not happy with Frank.

Doyle released his embrace and cast his eyes on his sister. She reached her hand up, and finally broke eye contact with Frank. She softened her gaze when it met her older brother’s eyes. The silent tears now began to stream down Doyle’s face as Margaret caressed her brother’s massive hand, and silently bid him farewell. Doyle released his sister’s hands and looked into her crystal blue eyes for the last time. Doyle stroked his sister’s face.

“Goodbye my princess!” he moaned.

Doyle forced himself to look away from his beloved family. He balefully forced himself out the door one agonizing footstep at a time, not uttering another word. Margaret fixed her hateful gaze back on Frank. The pudgy little bald man recognized the tension he was causing with his new crew, but he wouldn’t allow them to influence him or shake his resolve. He was, after all, the one in charge.

“Look, if you fuckwits are done with your little Romeo and Juliet high school play, maybe we can actually get back to business! Alright?”

“I’d pick my words more carefully, Frank. We may work for you, but you work for Liam.” Ryan warned, a glint of anger in his eyes.

Frank scoffed.

“I ain’t afraid of cyclops boy, alright? And I also ain’t scared of you or your whore sister, so don’t even think of trying to intimidate me, Gomez!” Frank glowered.

He had used his signature pronunciation of the word ‘whore’, drawing out the ‘o’ sound into a long ‘oo’, and watched as Margaret twisted her face into a furious scowl. Ryan reached his arm around his sister to comfort her.

“Don’t insult Margaret, Frank! You’re overstepping!” Ryan growled.

“I ain’t overstepped shit! You three fucked up big time! When I was working with the gang, and they pulled some stupid shit like this, they understood there was gonna’ be hell to pay! And now it’s your turn to learn!”

“Look, Frank. If it makes any difference to ya’, she did not finish me, and I have a really serious case of blue balls right now, so I am already suffering!” Matthew chimed in, attempting to garner sympathy.

“Good! I’m glad! And it don’t make no difference by the way, cause it was your idea to try an’ bang that creepy chick in the first place! Just consider it collateral damage!” Frank grinned sadistically.

Margaret took Matthew’s hand and gave it a slight squeeze. He looked over at her. She was making an innocent expression, which forced the resentment out of Matthew’s system. Though he hadn’t thought it possible at first, he was beginning to feel himself becoming attached to this strange, gangly, hairy girl. Her eyes were the most brilliant blue. He hadn’t noticed before now. Maybe even bluer than Dee’s. And she was showing affection unprompted, with no ulterior motive that he could determine. This felt like it might actually be real. But in an instant, he was hurled back into reality. Frank narrowed his eyes from behind his glasses and pointed sharply at the trio.

“While you three clowns were busy plowing, while you should’ve been workin’, we had not one, but two prison breaks! Two! Do you shitheads have any idea how incompetent this makes you look?”

“We put Doyle and the Snail on guard duty!” Ryan said defensively.

Frank grit his teeth, his face becoming a light shade of purple in his frustration.

“Yeah, well Doyle dragged his ass! He was busy beating his meat to you three jokers! And that left my shit head niece alone on guard duty. And do any of you three assholes remember what I told you about leaving Gail alone to do anything?”

Ryan and Matthew sighed nearly in unison. Matthew spoke up.

“Never leave the snail alone for any reason.”

“Good job, Cricket! And why don’t we do that?”

“Because…” Matthew began to speak.

“Uh uh uh! Let’s hear it from Ryan this time! You bastards all need to pay proper respect to your king!”

“Look, you may have been able to get away with this shit with Doyle, Frank…”

“Shut up, dog! Your king asked you a question, and you will respond without any back talk! Is that clear?” Frank graveled.

Ryan gave a dejected look as Margaret stared up at him with pity in her eyes.

“Yes, my king.”

“Warthog King!” Frank demanded.

“Yes, my Warthog King!” Ryan corrected himself.

“Better! Now tell me, Ryan. Why don’t we leave Gail alone with anything important for any reason?” Frank impatiently prompted.

“Because she’s unable to follow directions or stick to anything.”

“And?” Frank prodded.

“And because she’s a complete fuck up, who you’d have to be a total moron to trust, which is why we left her with Doyle.”

“Right! Only you didn’t! You must’ve noticed that giant sack o’ shit lumbering over you, wankin’ his grimy dong!” Frank scolded.

“In our defense, Frank, Doyle didn’t make any noise, and he was standing way in the corner. For someone as big as he is, it’s pretty crazy how quiet he can be.” Matthew defended.

“Yeah, well you shoulda’ paid closer attention then, ‘cause one way or another, we lost two of our three prisoners. Dee got the snail to sneak her out, and then your jackass brother let Charlie get away!”

“What about Mac? Why isn’t he here?” Matthew asked.

“Mac’s a pussy, and he got himself kidnapped by my son. I’ve decided to let him sweat it out in prison. He’s off the team!”

“Well wait… what was he doing down there in the first place?” Ryan asked.

“He went down there to torture ‘em because you assholes were bangin’ on the job! You’re lucky I needed a hunting party to track down Dee and Charlie. Otherwise, I’d chuck your asses in jail too!”

“So you want us to get them one at a time, or…” Matthew started, before being cut off by Frank’s raised finger.

“That ain’t happening! Naw! I can’t trust you three not to just start boning when my back is turned. You’re going in two separate groups!” Frank instructed.

“But that means that one of us is gonna’ be alone, Frank,” Matthew complained.

“Aw, thank you for volunteering to do this on your own, Cricket! Why don’t you make yourself useful and track down Deandra for me?” Frank sneered.

Cricket’s face suddenly lit up a bit. He felt around in his messenger bag, and pulled out the collar remote, stroking the object with fervor as he imagined Dee’s agonized screams once again.

“You know what? I’m good with this plan! Thank you, Mr. Warthog King!” Matthew smiled gratefully.

“Yeah, whatever! Just bring that goddamned bird back here!”

“Well, where do I start though, Frank?”

“Fuck if I know!” Frank snapped.

Margaret tugged on Matthew’s sleeve, with a look of excitement on her normally flat face. She held her phone up to Matthew’s face to show him what she had found. Matthew took the phone and read the screen. It was a social media website which Gail posted to on a very regular basis:

“Sup guys! Lady Gail here! Just busted my sweet cousin, Princess Dee out of jail! She’s going through the sewer right now, but we’re gonna meet up at Round Table in a couple hours! Peace out, bitches!”

 

Matthew read over the message three or four times, trying to figure out what to make of it.

“Wait, so should I be waiting in front of the Round Table for when she comes out?” He asked.

Margaret shook her head wildly, and pointed emphatically at the word “sewer”. Matthew’s eyes grew brighter, as his smile broadened, revealing his mostly toothless pink maw.

“Oh, baby! I like the way you think! Time to get fucking dirty!” Matthew cackled.

Margaret leaned over to give Matthew a kiss on the cheek. He blushed slightly and headed for the door.

“See ya’ soon, Margaret! Stay hot! This cricket’s got a bird to catch!” the young transient said, as he disappeared into the night.

“Now then. There’s just the matter of you two circus freaks finding Charlie. I really don’t give a shit how you do it, but I do want him back here in one piece. You read me?” Frank ordered. Margaret and Ryan looked at each other blankly for a few seconds. A cunning, sadistic smirk began to form on Margaret’s pale, dry lips. She slipped away behind Frank, and hid into one of the bar’s boom closets.

“What the fuck is that little skank doin’?” Frank snarled.

“Frank, I told you to stop saying those sorts of things about Margaret!” Ryan demanded.

“You’re speaking out of turn again, dog! Until you fix this, you don’t get to say shit to me, understand? You are just my hound!”

Ryan looked down dejectedly from Frank’s harsh reprimand. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Margaret emerged from the dusty broom closet, holding a small, stained cherrywood box. On the box lid was a small silver plaque engraved with the words “In loving memory of Maureen Ponderosa-Reynolds-Mcpoyle.” Margaret held the box close to her heart wearing a gleeful expression as she showed her brother. Ryan returned her smile.

“You little minx! You had this one waiting in the wings, didn’t you?” Ryan beamed with pride.

Frank looked confused and slightly irritated by all of this. He had no idea what the box said, or what kind of half baked plan this freak had cooking in her inbred brain, but he didn’t feel like he could trust her.

“What the fuck kind of scheme is that little crackwhore workin’ here?” Frank demanded. Ryan and Margaret flashed Frank a threatening glance.

“Don’t you worry your bald little head, Franklin! Margaret has a pretty amazing plan to catch your little rat boy, and when we’re done, you’ll be sorry for talking all this shit!”

“What’d I tell you about mouthin’ off to me, dog? You ain’t allowed to do that shit! Now you go out there, and you take your little whore sister, and drag that little lunatic back to the bar in one piece, ya’ hear me?”

Ryan sighed, and took his sister’s hand, as she tucked the box away into her tote bag.

“Yes, we hear you Frank. You’re the boss.” Ryan said, as he took Margaret’s hand.

“No! You can call me boss when you fix this shit! Until then, I am your king!” Frank reiterated.

Ryan and Margaret bowed deeply to placate Frank. It wasn’t a point worth arguing.

“Yes, my Warthog King! As you wish!” Ryan said bitterly.

“That’s better. Now go get Charlie! And I tell you what, as a bonus, I’ll let you bang ‘im! How’s that sound?” Frank smiled.

The two McPoyles stared incredulously at Franks offer, and begin to wear giddy smiles.

“That actually sounds great, my king! I’m not sure where this change of heart is coming from, but…” Ryan was interrupted.

“Nah, I was bullshitting ya’! You don’t get rewards for fuck ups! Now get your retarded asses out there and find him!” Frank waved them off. Ryan and Margaret took each other’s hands and walked through the door together. They looked at each other and passed a knowing glance to one another.

“That fat little pig fuck can try to boss around while he’s holding the cards. It doesn’t matter Margaret. It’s all gonna’ come back to bite him in the ass. No one messes with the McPoyles! And absolutely no one messes with the Milky Princess!”


	8. Charlie Becomes a McPoyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Kelly: Janitor of destiny! The master of disguise and wild-card of the gang finds himself in quite a pickle when he has only his wits and determination as arms in a battle of wills with four crafty and dangerous McPoyles. What cunning plan will our cavalier custodian come up with to deliver himself from frying pan, to fire, to safety? Or will our stalwart superintendent perish in the flames? Read on, good friends, and find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooot! One week of hiatus, but hopefully, this mega-chapter makes it worth it! A special thanks to all my readers! My friends from Discord, and my loyal viewers! I love you all! Keep reading and enjoying, and let me know what you think, and any suggestions if you have any. I very much wanted to explore the McPoyle family dynamic and a lot of the intrigue and volatility that exists within. Hopefully, I captured it all well, and maintained characterization throughout the piece, as character and dialogue are two of my most important storytelling elements here.
> 
> If anything is off, please let me know! I love this work and want more than anything else for it to be the best that it can be. I also love Charlie quite dearly, so it is important that he shines bright like the gritty little green-eyed diamond that he is! Hopefully, this week's chapter was worth the extra wait. Please let me know what you think, and I will doubtless skim through and edit as I see fit. Like I said, quality is crucial for this piece!
> 
> Kitty hugs and kisses, and I hope you like my work!

The walls of the sewer glistened in the flickering low emanation of the service lights. The pungent odor of stale mold and hints of decrepit fecal remnants traveled through to the humid air of this network of dank catacombs. It was a familiar and welcome aroma to the sinuses of Charlie Kelly. Almost as inviting as the vapors of beautiful paint and lacquer, and the sweet, fishy residue of cat food which permeated his own tiny apartment. For this was like a second home to the wild-hearted custodian. He felt truly alive, scuttling through these halls.

He had attempted initially to locate Dee, trying to follow the scent of her shampoo, though he recognized that the sweet perfume had dissipated long ago. Things could never be that convenient. Even with his superb sense of smell, better than that of a thousand rats he reasoned, that was still an unachievable feat for him.

But it really didn’t matter at this moment. He’d reunite with her later when the time was right. There was still so much more he had to accomplish before he could worry about regrouping. So very much more. For the first stage of his plan, he would need a phone. Those damn McPoyles had taken his phone, along with everything else that he had on him, back when they forced him to change into the pathetic medieval getup that he was forced to wear.

 _Well, let’s face it though. I probably look pretty badass in these rags._ Charlie assured himself.

He paused for a moment to think things through a bit more carefully, recognizing how bizarre his outfit would appear to strangers after he finally emerged from the sewer. He’d probably need a change of clothes soon. That, and a means of removing that horrible slave collar which Cricket had latched around his neck. It really was unbelievable that this thing didn’t seem to have a release mechanism that he could access. Charlie entertained the sinking suspicion he had that the collar was designed for humans, not dogs.

It was no small favor to Charlie that he had spent so many years scouring the sewer with Frank, and later Dee as well. Charlie had picked up the layout of these long, shadowy corridors years ago. Navigating these halls was all but second nature to him now. He was like a ninja turtle by now.

 _Charlie Kelly! The fifth ninja turtle!_ He mused.

Now was not the time though, to be distracted by random fantasies. He had a plan to carry out. A serious plan. Deadly serious. And he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. He had to blend in perfectly. This was what he’d been studying for. Reaching his hand toward the wall as he rushed by, Charlie scooped up a finger full of sludge which he promptly brushed through his shaggy brown hair, pomading it down into a slick, wet shag. Just the right disguise. He didn’t have to slick his beard down. He was grateful for that.

Next, he had to remove the shock collar. That was easier said than done. The thing had absolutely no give whatsoever. He was really starting to wonder just where these collars came from in the first place. There seemed to be some kind of metal reinforcement running through the thing, and cutting through it wouldn’t be possible without some heavy duty sheers. Just how were you supposed to take these things off?

 _Seriously, dude! Who the fuck hates their dog this much??_ Charlie pondered.

He rounded another corner and began to smell a familiar aroma. Strawberry cream cheese. It was unmistakable. Whether on the surface or underground, he was always able to locate the smell of the corner convenience store, some ten blocks east of Paddy’s. Had he really made it that far already? It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

This was perfect! He remembered them selling prepaid phones there, and lots of other things he might be able to use. Then of course, he didn’t have any money on him. Not to mention, he was dressed like a prisoner of a long forgotten era, and he still had that goddamned collar latched around his neck. Nothing could ever just work out right, could it? Not for Charlie Kelly…

 _Hold on a second! Wait!_ He thought. _If the smell is coming in this strong here, that has to mean I’m facing the back alley! Maybe I can stealth my way in!_ Charlie reasoned.

Taking a modest leap from his muscular calves, Charlie sprung himself up to reach the nearest storm drain and pulled himself up to peer ahead at the surface world. Charlie’s sturdy, calloused hands gripped the concrete beneath them, holding him firmly in place, as he allowed his senses to absorb their surroundings.

As he had properly predicted, he was facing directly towards the back alley. The rancid smell of expired sour cream and curdled milk which sublimated from the dumpster now intermingled with the rich, sweet smell of cream cheese, releasing a deluge of mixed messages to Charlie’s brain and stomach, flooding him with a bizarre combination of hunger and nausea.  It was time to go topside for a bit.

Charlie pulled himself through the narrow exit of the sewer, crawling on his elbows as he freed himself from the concrete portal. Surrounded now by the warm, muggy air of the summer evening, and bombarded by the rancid smells of the garbage receptacle, Charlie felt his head begin to spin.

 _Come on! Now’s not the time to ride a dumpster fume and humidity high! You gotta stay focused!_ Charlie reminded himself.

Though he was starting to see colored spots now, the oily young janitor forced himself to stay alert and present. He scanned the alleyway with intensity and happened across an interesting sight. A makeshift clothesline stood near the very far corner of the alley. It had previously been obscured by the dumpster and the various trash containers that lined the wall, but there appeared to be some articles of clothing still dangling. Among them, a red velour turtleneck which could easily hide the collar. It was perfect!

Not hesitating, Charlie scurried over to the clothesline, freeing the bizarrely dated shirt, and a pair of equally antiquated brown bell bottom trousers. Charlie swiftly changed out of his absurd prison outfit, and into this only slightly less absurd outfit that he had lucked upon. He adjusted the collar so that the prods now faced the back of his neck, and no trace of the device was visible at least head on or from the side.

Nausea and dizziness had been chipping away at Charlie’s physical stability for what seemed like minutes. As soon as he allowed himself to relax, Charlie felt the violent rush as he helplessly gripped his gut. His heart raced, and he released a small stream of warm tears as he felt the entire center of his abdomen convulse. Unable to hold back, Charlie opened his mouth and released a warm, sour stream of clear fluid to the ground. He tried to stifle the sound as best he could, but he knew the echo of the alley would carry. His energy spent, Charlie slumped down along the brick wall, breathing heavily while his consciousness began to flicker.

 _Not yet, goddamn it!_ Charlie urged himself. _Not… don’t pass…_

Just as his vision nearly faded to black, the blurry darkness of the alley opened up a small stream of light, not fifteen feet from where he sat. A silhouette stood in the doorway. Tall and thin. The faint light of the street lamp reflected from a pair of glassy eyes, causing them to glow ominously. The tall figure slowly approached. Charlie used what strength he had remaining to try to back away.

“Aw, shit! It happened again! You alright, Ignatius?” the tall man lulled in a familiar drawl.

 _Oh god, no! It’s a fucking McPoyle!_ Charlie panicked, forcing adrenaline back into his system.

_Stay cool, Charlie. He thinks you’re one of them. Just go with it! You’ve practiced!_

“Uhh, oh, I dunno, about that, brother. I think I like… drank some bad milk.” Charlie dragged his words carefully.

He was now able to make out the face of the man who stood before him. It was vaguely familiar. A scar across his left cheek, and a long crooked nose. He was bald on top, but still had the remnants of a straw blonde mane on the sides. He believed he remembered this one being called Phineas. Still, he wasn’t ready to risk it just yet. He saw the man eye him with increased suspicion and his mind began to race for an exit strategy.

“Hey! Wait a minute, little man. You’re not Iggy! Thought you could fool me, didn’t ya?”

The horrifying, lanky man grabbed Charlie by the front of the shirt, just narrowly missing the collar. A small favor, though it didn’t seem to make a difference in the situation. Charlie knew he was boned if he didn’t think of something very quickly. He was silently praying that the vile man wouldn’t notice the pile of ragged prisoner attire balled up on the alley floor within eyeshot. Charlie frantically searched for a name as he felt himself being lifted to his feet against his will by the lumbering figure.

_Shit! What’s my middle name? I know it starts with an ‘A’… Fuck! Allen? No. Arthur? Shit! No! Amy? Fuck! Are there even men named Amy? Um… Earnie? Does that start with an ‘A’? Fuck! Oh, shit..._

“Aaron!”

“Excuse you?” the McPoyle graveled.

“Aaron McPoyle! That’s me! Don’t you recognize me, brother?”

Charlie wore a nervous, crooked smile, allowing the odor of stomach acid and faint hints of old cheese to tickle his persecutor’s nose. The coarse narrow features of the man’s face all crumpled up in confusion for a moment. The man thought for a moment. His eyes widened and began to stare through Charlie.

The scruffy, green-eyed janitor’s mind sank into abject panic. He began to disassociate. Suddenly, he saw himself on a lavish bed, adorned in red satin. To his left stood the waitress, her hair in braids, wearing a lavish purple silk dress with gold trim, and ample cleavage revealed. An adoring smile in her eye, she served him grapes and cheese from a golden tray. To his right, Deandra, her hair adorned with small purple flowers. She wore a pink gown, similar to the one from his play, though more sensual and clingy. She poured mead for him, into a bejeweled goblet. He graciously reached out a hand to accept this offering, before being erratically jerked back into reality by a jolt from the clutches of the horrifying man who still had him in his grip.

“You’re not Aaron! Aaron’s never been able to grow a beard, you jackass! I know exactly who you are, fucko, and the jig is up!” The man threatened.

Charlie, still holding his hand out in attempt to accept the imaginary goblet, now attempted to wave the accusation away.

“Naw… I’m sure you’re mistaken… Phinster.” Charlie went for broke, not only attempting to use the name which he only loosely associated with this face, but additionally making his best effort to emulate the McPoyle practice of using intentional misnomers. Charlie desperately searched the man’s face for signs of sympathy, but he was coming up empty.

“Don’t try to lie to me, Charlie! I know who you are!” the McPoyle sneered aggressively. Charlie longed to slip into that dissociative state just once more before his inevitable demise proceeded, but the dream just wouldn’t come this time. He felt his heart pound, as he dragged his rough, filthy hands in front of himself, trying to gesture denial once more.

“I assure you, I have no idea who this Charlie…”

“Hey Kenneth!” the aggressive McPoyle shouted towards the still open doorway.

“What’s the damage Phin?” A voice from within the building responded.

 _Fuck yeah! I knew it was Phineas! I knew it!_ Charlie silently celebrated, knowing that his victory would be brief.

“Come on out here! We’ve got an unexpected guest!” Phineas grunted.

Charlie tried to wiggle free, but Phineas grappled the wiry janitor, overtaking him with a headlock that held him in place. The second horrifying McPoyle entered the alley. A crop of greasy black hair cascaded to each side of his narrow head. He looked over the young janitor and flashed a sinister grin. Charlie felt his head begin to pulse. It felt as though his skull could tear itself from within his skin, and plummet to the filthy ground.

“Holy shit, Phinegan! It’s Charlie!” Kenneth smiled.

Charlie’s eyes widened. His disguise had done nothing, and his plan had failed in every conceivable way. He could only hope that Dee was doing better, wherever she was, though even that was barely a comforting thought at this moment, as he began to feel his life flash before his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re damn sure straight, Kensington.”

Charlie tried desperately to bite his captor's arm but was unable to move his head enough to do so, thanks in no small part to the lack of slack on the collar. Charlie was astonished at the fact that the wretched device had managed to go this long unnoticed.

He continued squirming, as he watched the greasy haired Kenneth’s long, spidery fingers reach out to slide through Charlie’s sludge coated hair and muss it mockingly. A confusingly tender look danced across Kenneth’s face as he did this. Charlie embraced the lightheaded feeling and accepted the confusion that ensued.

“Little Cousin Charlie from the Bronx! Come down from on high in New York, just to visit us bumpkins in Philly!” Kenneth cheerfully exclaimed.

Charlie could tell that his surprise had to be showing.

_Are they fucking with me, dude? Oh god… Is this for real?_

Charlie felt himself nodding instinctively, as he sensed the tight grip releasing from around his neck. He was able to breathe again at last and stand upright. Before he could respond, He felt two long, narrow hands clasp around his shoulders, as he was pulled in, almost gravitationally. Before he knew it, his lips were pressed firmly against Kenneth’s. He felt Kenneth’s slick, filmy tongue beginning to explore the inside of his mouth.

Unable to fight the moment, Charlie allowed himself to enter McPoyle headspace once more, accepting this slippery, uninvited guest. He allowed his own rough tongue to lightly wrestle back, taking in the sensation and flavors of his unexpected partner. He actually tasted a bit like milk steak, and if he was being honest, it certainly wasn’t the worst kiss he’d ever had. It actually felt much more pleasant than he could have imagined at first glance.

“Uhh… Thank you, Kennedy! It’s always a pleasure to see you too! We’re always going on about the Philadelphia McPoyles up in the Bronx, you know?” Charlie played along. He saw Kenneth and Phineas begin to blush.

“Oh, do go on, Charles! Flattery will get you anywhere!” Phineas interjected.

Charlie began to relax, as he allowed himself to slip into character, feeling more and more familial with the two rough necks by the moment. He could definitely use this to his advantage.

“Well now that you mention it, cousins, I do appear to have misplaced my wallet somewhere on my way over. Ya’ know, it’s probably still on the Greyhound I took, or I might have left it with the Lyft driver I took from the station… I know I left my phone with him, so… might I be able to procure some supplies while I’m in town?” Charlie sold his performance as hard as he could.

The two gangly men looked each other over for a moment, and then smiled and faced Charlie once again.

“But of course, Charleston! All you had to do is ask. You know we can’t refuse another McPoyle. Come right in, come right in!” Phineas exclaimed.

The two McPoyles escorted Charlie into the back entrance of the shop through the storage room, and into the main shopping area. A girl with dirty blonde hair in a side ponytail stood behind the counter, absently staring past the customer that she was helping with a purchase upon Charlie’s entrance. Her conjoined eyebrow and demeanor, along with the fact that she was working here made it clear to Charlie that she was a McPoyle. Charlie waved shyly at the shop girl, as Kenneth nudged him forward.

“Hey, Elizabeth! Front and center! We’ve got a visitor!” Kenneth shouted, interrupting the customer’s purchase.

“Um, excuse me?” the man awaiting the completion of his purchase rang in. Elizabeth ignored him and smiled at Charlie, revealing a row of crooked teeth.

“Oh my God! Is that Cousin Charlie?” Elizabeth shouted.

“You bet your perfect little ass, it is, Bethany!” Charlie responded confidently, raising a tiny giggle from the thin, fuzzy girl behind the counter.

The man who was making the purchase sighed loudly, receiving a dirty look from Elizabeth and her two brothers. Elizabeth curtly reached into the register, and gracelessly slammed some change in front of the man, not bothering to count it. The man looked through the wad of bills and pile of coins with aggravation.

“I’m three dollars and fifteen cents short!” the man growled.

Kenneth thrust his grimy hand into his apron and pulled a crumpled up five dollar bill from the cash pocket. Pacing towards the counter, he slammed the wrinkled note in front of him.

“Keep the change, bitch!” Kenneth glowered.

The man took the five-dollar bill indignantly and left. The three McPoyles now eyed Charlie intently. He felt like a wounded antelope, being salivated over by a pack of ravenous hyenas. The fleeting thought occurred that perhaps his plan to infiltrate may have been poorly thought out. Even if he were to succeed, there would be some pretty damning consequences. But he had dedicated himself to the execution of this plan up to this point. He wasn’t going to stop eating Pop-pop’s soup now, just because it was rancid! He’d already dived in, and he would see it through to the very gruesome end!

“So, uhh… What brings you down to our neck of the woods then, Chucky Cheese?” Elizabeth asked, adding an awkward wink for flirty emphasis.

Charlie paused for a moment, making every attempt not to panic. He really hadn’t thought this far ahead.

_Fuck! Gotta’ come up with an excuse! What the fuck would a McPoyle from New York be doing out here? Don’t say ‘banging you!’ whatever you do, Charlie! That’s never gonna end well! Besides, all the McPoyle men are uncircumcised! Goddamn, I wish I didn’t know that! Still, showing your dick is gonna completely blow your cover… Gotta’ think of something… Gotta’ think of something fast!_

“I just wanted to visit Pappy. Ya’ know it’s been five years…”

“You visited last summer, Carlito!” Phineas grunted with suspicion.

Beads of sweat began to condense on Charlie’s forehead, carrying particles of the sewer slime that he had rubbed in his hair earlier in narrow streams down his cheeks.

_My god! You’re boned, dude! Just run! Just run! Come on, what are you waiting for?_

“Did I say five, Phincent? I must’ve been thinking of that fiver you chucked at that whiney bitch costumer a moment ago! What is five anyway? Is it a number or a letter? I mean, what does five even mean, am I right guys? Am I right?” Charlie pitched desperately to dead air.

The three McPoyles stared blankly at Charlie. It was a cold dead stare. The kind that you see on the face of a snake, poised to unhinge its jaw, and begin to devour it’s twitching prey whole. Suddenly, he saw a strange awkward smile creep over the face of the sandy blonde cashier’s face.

“He’s right guys! Five is a weird word, ain’t it? Shit, we’ve missed your Big Apple observational humor around here, Carlos!” Elizabeth snickered.

Kenneth patted Charlie on the back boisterously, with a broad grin on his face.

“Oh, damn! We missed you and your shenanigans, Charlie Brown! Always making the clever wordplay and hilarious pranks! God damn! Life’s just not the same without you here! So tell us, Charles. What’s the score?” Kenneth prodded.

Charlie continued to sweat as his thready pulse hummed in his ear. These McPoyles certainly were keeping him on his toes, but he hadn’t lost his cool just yet. He was starting to feel his way out now, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe.

“Alright, fam. Here’s the skinny,” Charlie started, now noticing a captive audience. “I’ve got something really big planned, and it involves that new dive bar that Liam just purchased, but I’ve gotta’ stay really hush-hush about it for now. Pappy’s been really cheesed off at Liam and Margaret lately. Ever since the wedding. But I hear they’re still planning some real shady business down there.”

“Oh yeah! You mean diluting the bloodline, right?” Kenneth interrupted.

“Eww!” Elizabeth chimed in, wearing a look of disgust.

“Yeah, that’s the one! So I was thinking, I’d be failing to do my due diligence as a McPoyle if I didn’t try to do something about this bullshit. Right?”

“Holy shit, Charlie Chaplin! You’re fucking crazy, going up against Liam and Margaret! They’re gonna bury you so deep, Mother won’t even be able to graze off of the grass that your corpse grows!” Phineas warned.

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong, cousin! You’re old boy Charlie wouldn’t be putting his sweaty balls on the chopping block without a plan! Liam and Margaret don’t even suspect a thing yet, and we’re not gonna’ tell ‘em shit. Right?” Charlie nodded, extending his fist awkwardly toward the other three McPoyles.

Elizabeth was the first to bump fists without hesitation, followed by Kenneth. Phineas eyed Charlie skeptically and seemed a bit dismayed at his sibling’s lack of self-control. The other two McPoyles began to stare expectantly at the bald, snaggle toothed man. Though he clearly still held reservations, Phineas reluctantly met knuckles with Charlie. Charlie silently stifled a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for staying with me, my friends. We have to keep the bloodline pure and clean. It’s an ancient tradition that they’re breaking!”

“Take me with you!” Elizabeth pleaded.

“Yeah! Me too! We can take my car! I wanna be a part of this!” Kenneth added on.

“No, my darling cousins! I must make this journey alone! It would be too suspicious if either of you left the shop, and it would be even worse if we were all spotted together traveling to Pappy. Liam would catch on, and our hollowed-out skulls would be the urinal bowls at that shitty bar he just bought! Believe me, I’ve thought of every scenario, and it would not be safe to let you tag along.”

The two McPoyles sighed dejectedly, as their older brother donned a look of relief.

“Well if we can’t go with you, what can we do? We wanna’ help you somehow, Charlie!” Elizabeth insisted.

Charlie smiled wickedly, leaning in close to Elizabeth and Kenneth. This is what he had been waiting for. These two were now putty in his hand, and their older brother was powerless to stop him. Time to work the old Charlie Kelly… McPoyle charm.

“Well, you could lend me some supplies from the store, dear family. There are a few things around here that could definitely come in handy!”

“Done!” Kenneth said.

“Anything you need, dear cousin!” Elizabeth added.

“Guys, come on! Don’t you think we’re jumping the gun…”

Phineas’ objection was met with an instant aggressive stare down from his two siblings.

“Fine, whatever guys! It’s your funerals. If Liam finds out, I’m not taking any responsibility for this one!” Phineas conceded begrudgingly. The sound of a flushing toilet from the back area suddenly drew everyone’s attention.

“Oh yeah, that’s right!” Phineas snapped. “Ignatius still hasn’t weighed in on this at all. We’ll put it to vote!” he smiled, a look of relief crossing over his scarred face.

_Fuck! I forgot about that! He said another guy’s name a while back! I should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. Shit!_

From the storage area, a fourth McPoyle emerged. Slightly hunched shoulders, and beady yellowish-brown eyes. His oily dishwater hair was swept to one side, revealing half of his very high forehead. He grimaced as he laid eyes on Charlie, immediately causing his heart to sink.

 _What the fuck is this guy’s deal?_ Charlie wondered, as he vigorously stifled his urge to vomit once again.

The fourth McPoyle looked Charlie up and down, showing clear disdain.

“Well if it isn’t Cock-tease Charlie! Come down from on high in New York just to lord over me!” Ignatius grumbled. Kenneth and Elizabeth groaned at their brother.

“Cock-tease Charlie? Come on, man! You’re still not over that shit?” Charlie faked his way through, trying not to let on that he had no clue what he was talking about.

“Over it? You said you and I were going to lose our virginity to each other! That’s like, one of the biggest moments in a McPoyles life, and you expect me to just get over it? Oh, Charlie boy, your audacity never ceases to infuriate me!” Ignatius fumed.

He raised his hand and smacked Charlie across the right cheek hard enough to make him stagger back. Charlie could feel the tender flesh beneath his beard swell. He cradled his cheek with his right hand, as he stared at Ignatius in shock.

_God fucking damn it! It figures this Charlie guy would have bad blood with one of these assholes! Goddamn McPoyles are like little cannibals! They can’t even get along with each other when they’re not banging. Fuck! I think I’m gonna have to bang this guy! Shit! Can’t let him see my dick though. He’ll know! Um… do I have to blow him?_

Charlie’s mind raced as he tried to chart the most accessible course out of the shop. He still wasn’t ready to surrender. There had to be a workaround in this situation. He noticed Kenneth and Elizabeth staring at Ignatius in extreme judgment. This might work.

“Hey, Iggy Pop. I know it was some seriously fucked up shit that I pulled back then, but I mean, come on! That’s ancient history! I’m a changed man! I’ve come to save the family so I think it’s time we called this old rivalry off.” Charlie attempted to diffuse the situation.

Both Kenneth and Elizabeth positioned themselves in supportive stances towards Charlie, in order to show solidarity. Phineas rolled his eyes at the whole situation.

“You know, this is so like you! Coming on down here like nothing happened! Winning the youngsters over with your dime store con-artist charm, and your pretty boy looks, and your stunning green eyes! Just treating life like it’s your buffet, as usual! Oh yeah! We’re all just gonna’ do whatever Charlie wants because he gives us a wink like we’re something special! Like we’re just a bunch of pathetic little sluts in high school, desperate for him to take us out back after winter formal, and make steamy handprints on the windshield of his Pinto! Well, fuck that! Not this McPoyle!” Ignatius punctuated with spit flying from his lips periodically.

Charlie felt his head begin to spin, the urge to run now almost completely overtaking him. It had been a miracle that his disguise had even worked in the first place, and his work with Kenneth and Elizabeth had almost connected him with his goals. Of course, it must all be too good to be true. His head began to spin again. Why was this always how things seemed to play out?

Phineas wore a victorious smile. He had won. They would not have to cosign their names to Charlie’s reckless coup. He realized the disappointment he was causing for his two siblings, but he sincerely didn’t care. He never could control the brats or their immature whims. Ignatius on the other hand. His volatility could always resolve a situation.

“Well, there you have it, Kenneth! Elizabeth! We’re not playing Charlie’s little game today, and I can’t say it doesn’t relieve me beyond words! Sorry, Chuckles, but I don’t have the courage or the energy to put myself on Liam and Margaret’s shit list.” Phineas gloated at his heartbroken younger siblings.

Ignatius took notice of Phineas’ words and began to lower his aggressive posture, striking a curious and intrigued expression. Phineas passed an agitated look at his tempestuous brother.

“Now hold on a second, Phinagan! What’s this about taking a stand against Liam and Margaret? And why wasn’t it brought to my attention?” Ignatius curled his lips viciously.

“Come one, Iggy! Let’s not think with our emotions…”

Ignatius raised a fist in threat, cutting Phineas off from finishing the sentence.

“I’ve decided I want to hear what Charlie’s got to say! Alright, Phineas! I’m taking a step down. What’s emotional about that?” Ignatius shouted wildly.

Phineas cowered, and took two large steps back, to avoid the potential random acts of violence that he knew his brother was capable of. Charlie seized the opportunity and invited himself to now lead this rudderless conversation.

“Right! So here’s the thing, Iguanodon. Liam and Margaret, as you know, have been pulling a long con on the family, to start getting the blood mixing plan moving forward…”

Ignatius slammed his fist down on the counter in blind fury, causing everyone in the room to jump, and making Charlie’s heart skip a beat. Charlie and Kenneth met eyes with a mutual unease. Charlie shifted his gaze to uncomfortably meet the zealous stare of Ignatius. Ignatius gave an expectant look to Charlie, clearly demonstrating his impatience.

“Continue!” he demanded.

“Ok, so I was planning to sneak my way over to Pappy’s cabin and enlist the aid of some of his best men. You know! Real McPoyle loyalists! None of these new-aged whores that just tag along and play follow the leader with whatever Liam and Margaret say and do…” Charlie noticed Ignatius gesturing him to hurry through his explanation and felt the urgency continuing to build.

“And I just need a few basic supplies from the store to help me make it through this on my own, because I don’t wanna draw any attention, and I definitely don’t want to get you guys in trouble! You’re the real McCoy… McPoyle! So if you could just find it in your heart to forgive me…”

Ignatius held his palm out signaling Charlie to stop. He glared at Charlie intensely. A flurry of emotions painted the aggressive young man’s face. At this very moment, Charlie truly felt his fate was left to chance. The whim of whichever emotion this human roulette wheel happened to land on. Kenneth and Elizabeth watched with hopeful eyes. Phineas now looked away, seemingly desiring to exclude himself from the outcome entirely. The tension was now too much for the meager little man. Ignatius opened his mouth just slightly. It was as if even he wasn’t sure what his next decision would be.

“Charlie. You broke my heart! You broke my heart and you humiliated me. You know that!”

“Yes, we’ve been over that. I’m sorry!”

“You’re a bastard!”

“Ok, yes! I’m a bastard, alright?” Charlie continued to placate.

“But you’re also the only McPoyle I know of who’s got the solid steel cajones to take on Liam and Margaret. You came all the way down from New York just to do it!” Ignatius responded. Charlie smiled.

“That is absolutely true. Because I care! I care about keeping the line pure and clean!”

“Right! Pure and clean! And so you’ve proved to me this day that you may actually care more about this goddamned family and it’s legacy than any other McPoyle this side of the Schuylkill!”

“It’s true, man! I love our family! McPoyles forever!” Charlie shouted, allowing his voice to crack manically. He saw the anger on Ignatius’s face begin to melt away. A proud smile began to spread across his moist, pasty face. Kenneth and Elizabeth now gleefully smiled along with him. They placed their hands on Charlie’s back and glowed with familial bliss. Charlie allowed his heart to rest at last. He had finally gotten over on these McPoyles! Finally!

Ignatius, allowing a tear to roll down each cheek, pulled Charlie in for a passionate, loving embrace. He began to weep as he held Charlie close in his arms. Heart to heart. Caught up in the moment, Charlie allowed himself to feel it too. It was certainly a manipulation on his part, but by now it felt absolutely real in his mind. He was glad that he had made amends with Ignatius, and once again felt his warm embrace, and understood the indescribable feeling of love that one McPoyle could only ever truly share with another. It was like being wrapped in an itchy blanket, handwoven with love by your sister. Taking one of the teats from Mother’s utter into your mouth, and imbibing of the warm, life-giving fluid. It was like being reborn. And Charlie was ready to accept it all. He would bring Liam and Margaret, down. It was his destiny and his duty as a McPoyle.

Ignatius released the embrace, allowing Charlie to step back into reality. He looked Charlie in the eyes, his jaundiced gaze brimming with pride.

“Take anything you need, dearest Charles! We need to stand together as McPoyles!” Ignatius offered.

“Oh, fucking peachy!” Phineas groaned in defeat.

Charlie grabbed a cloth bag from the rack on the counter and began to scour the shop. He rifled through shelves and deftly confiscated the tools he’d need:

 A prepaid cell phone. A pair of large wire cutters, which appeared sturdy enough to cut through a fence, and would surely make short work of the collar he wore. A piece of rope, as rope always seemed to be useful somehow in movies. Some jumper cables. A few cans of cat food, because old habits are hard to break. A block of cheddar and a block of pepper jack cheese to stave off hunger. And a few more various odds and ends that he thought may be useful.

He grabbed a small muffin, finally, and smeared it with a generous helping of strawberry cream cheese from the barrel. The item that had drawn him to the shop in the first place. He bit into the delicious, spread covered treat, and allowed himself to savor its rich, creamy flavor for a bit. He felt like he was being whisked away to heaven for a moment, and he smiled vacantly. Wholly enraptured in the bliss. He saw the three McPoyles who had supported his endeavor smiling along with him now. He took a moment to meet eyes with each one. As he and Elizabeth crossed glances, she bore a dreamy look.

“Hey, Charlie horse! What’s say before you go, I take you back into storage and ya’ know… milk the cow?” Elizabeth winked. Ignatius stared jealously and held his hand up.

“Oh no, you don’t! If anyone’s taking Charlie for a hayride it’s gonna be me! He owes me that!”

Charlie held his free hand up and waved away the offers.

“Look, guys. I’d love to get down with all three of you. I really would! And I know you’d make it well worth my while. But I seriously don’t have time for any of this right now! I have a long way to go still. So if you’ll excuse me…” Charlie tried to make his exit as graceful and painless as he could. And he could not risk being exposed as an imposter. Elizabeth pouted.

“Well can you at get a family photo with us?” Elizabeth begged. She and Kenneth fawned on him with puppy dog eyes, as he desperately attempted to escape. He could not afford to be photographed with them. It would blow his position, and he’d be as good as captured.

“Come on, guys! I really don’t think that’s a good idea, like, at all!” Charlie insisted. Ignatius passed an impatient gaze.

“Charlie! Take the picture! It’s the least you could do to thank us for our hospitality!” he gripped Charlie’s shoulders firmly and held him in place. Charlie was unable to move. He recognized the lack of flexibility in this request.

_Shit! There really is no winning here, is there?_

“Look, I’m just worried you’re gonna post this online, and Liam, or maybe Ryan or Margaret will see it, and all this planning will have been for nothing!” Charlie argued.

“Aww, come on Charlottesville! Don’t be a pussy! No one’s gonna’ knows!” Elizabeth insisted.

“Phineas! Take the picture for us, buddy.” Kenneth requested as he squeezed in close. Elizabeth edged in and hovered centimeters from Charlie’s face. And finally, Ignatius clung his arm around Charlie’s shoulder.

“I refuse to be a party to this.” Phineas resisted.

“Take the goddamned picture!” Ignatius shrieked, as only a McPoyle could.

Phineas reluctantly aimed his cell phone camera at the group and got everyone in the frame.

“Alright. Everybody say curdled milk!” Phineas said.

“Curdled milk!” replied everyone aside from Elizabeth, who opted to lick Charlie’s face instead, causing him to shudder with shock as Phineas snapped the photo. The three McPoyles embraced Charlie warmly, as Phineas sighed. Charlie was finally released from their grasps, and for the first time since arriving, felt truly free. He actually found himself appreciating the acceptance of this particular group of McPoyles and had almost convinced himself that this was an enjoyable experience.

“Thanks, fam! You guys have really been great, you know that? I tell you what after all is said and done, I’m gonna’ come back here, and we can all milk the cow ‘till the cows come home, ne’s pas?” Charlie smiled, as he waved and walked towards the door, toting his bag of gear.

“Oh indubitably! We have a date, Charles!” Ignatius beamed.

“Just don’t send that picture to anyone online, you understand? We don’t want the wrong people to catch our stank!” Charlie added before exiting.

“Come on! What kind of simpletons do you take us for!” Elizabeth assured.

Within a moment, Charlie was out the door, and out of sight. Elizabeth held out her hand towards Phineas, motioning for him to hand over the cell phone he was holding.

“Alright, Phin! Fork it over! I’ve got an Instagram post to make!” she stated.

“Don’t forget to tag me!” Kenneth added.

“Tag all of us!” Ignatius demanded.

“Are you all utterly brain-dead, siblings? Liam and Margaret are gonna…”

“Oh boo hoo hoo!” Elizabeth said as she snatched the phone from Phineas’ hand.

“You think I’m scared of the Milky Princess! I can’t wait to see the look on that anorexic slut’s face when she finds out I’ve been mackin’ down with cousin Charlie!” she grinned maniacally.

 

__

As Ryan guided his small, decrepit car down the bumpy road into the heart of Philadelphia, he began to wear a crafty grin. It would be all too easy to find their little rat boy and stuff him ever so soundly into the trunk of his vintage compact. Attempting to avoid nausea, Margaret peered through the window, when she suddenly felt a buzz at her hip. Opening the messenger bag which rested at her side, she reached in to procure her phone, and check to see what the vibration was about.

A new message on her cousin Elizabeth’s feed. She always posted the most inane shit! It was probably another cheese curd that she thought looked like Elvis or some such nonsense. Always so forgettable. She was ready to click and swipe it away, just to get rid of the annoying little red number icon. As she clicked, ready to dismiss the photo, something piqued her attention. Her blue eyes widened and gleamed with a sudden excitement.

Margaret tapped her older brother’s shoulder as she pointed the phone in his direction. Ryan didn’t look.

“Not now, Margaret! I’m driving!” Ryan snarled.

Margaret tapped repeatedly on Ryan’s shoulder and started to point at the screen. Ryan glanced over and checked the screen with a cursory glance.

“Oh hey! Cousin Charlie’s in town!” Ryan smiled. “We should catch up with him while he’s here.”

Margaret rolled her eyes and started to tap the screen frantically, showing her frustration. She couldn’t have been the only one to notice. Ryan groaned at her.

“Yeah, I get it! You have a crush on Cousin Charlie, ok. Just give it a rest for now! That’s not the Charlie we’re looking for!” Ryan shook his head in annoyance.

Margaret slapped her forehead with her palm, then clipped Ryan’s shoulder with the same palm, insisting that he pay attention. Ryan answered with an aggravated grunt.

“Margaret, I’m gonna throw that phone out the window if you don’t stop!” Ryan growled.

Margaret shook her head and sighed deeply. She slid the phone back into her messenger bag and crossed her arms. It was going to be another one of those trips, she thought.


	9. Mac Loves Dennis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Dennis dwell together in their prison cell, left alone to ponder their fate. But the two men still have the demons of their immediate past to deal with. Will Dennis be able to bring himself to forgive Mac for his transgressions? Will Mac be able to cope with the Golden God's baleful countenance or survive his wrath? Read on good friends, and find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride month, yo! I'm pretty late into the month to be sure! I apologize for the very long hiatus. No real excuses for it, other than life got in the way repeatedly. But regardless, I finally finished, and my only hope is that it is up to snuff with the chapters before. I really put a lot of effort into this one, but somehow I feel like it's weak in parts. I hope I'm just being self-critical. I really want this chapter to be good. Leave comments down below to tell me what you think, please! 
> 
> And I sincerely hope that you enjoy the Mac-Dennis!

The floor of the dimly lit basement glistened with the sticky remnants of mostly evaporated whiskey and pickle brine. Most of the glass shards had been swept away by Charlie and Dee before they seized their opportunities for freedom. All the while, Dennis remained still. Poised and calm, like a marble figure, allowing the world to move around him as he remained still. The madness of the evening, and how quickly things had progressed seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. It was impossible to read him. But that didn’t stop Mac from trying.

There he sat. Not perspiring. Not blinking. Barely breathing. What could he be thinking this whole time? Was he still baring this ludicrous grudge? Did he not understand the thought and care that had been put into Mac’s decision, or did he simply not appreciate it? That had to be it. He never appreciated the sincerity, the insights. He never appreciated the love that Mac demonstrated, and he wouldn’t start today.

But why not? Why, when it was just the two of them in this dank, musty storage room? No Dee to judge them or call them names. No Charlie to stupidly misinterpret things and ruin the intimacy with his juvenile social skills. No Frank to make antiquated homophobic statements and promote the normal defensive behaviors. This time it was truly just them, and things still felt the same. It wasn’t right!

Mac sighed. His pride was shattered to pieces. He stared at Dennis’s lithe frame, eyes closed, barely breathing. And for once in his life, he felt entirely unworthy. Not just unwanted or unwelcome. He had failed in every conceivable way. His plan to double-cross the McPoyles was never allowed to come to fruition. His attempts to convince the gang of his loyalty were utterly wasted.

  
_Dennis hates me now! Goddamnit!_

But how could it be true after all the years of trust and loyalty? After the return from what he presumed would be a permanent departure from Philadelphia? The nights they’d spent together getting high and walking to the park after the relentless hustle of the high school week was out and making their big plans for after graduation. All the secrets that they shared with only one another, the ones that they knew Charlie was too stupid to understand, and that Shcmiddy would laugh at them for telling? The moments where they encouraged one another to go beyond their perceived limits? The days spent at the gym together, pushing one another to go that extra set and achieve the standards of perfection that they knew the other was capable of? The countless movie nights? The hundreds of times they pulled each other out of depression when one of their schemes went south? All that couldn’t have been for nothing, right? They were still here together. He was still here.

  
_It couldn't have all been for nothing!_

If there’s one thing Mac knew about himself, one thing that Dennis had helped him recognize, it’s that he was not a quitter. And he wouldn’t give up on what they’d made together. It had to be destiny. Dennis’s words earlier! They had to shed some deeper truth on what God had planned for them! It was time to try again. Damn the mask of indifference that Dennis attempted to don! Mac would never let it stand.

“Dennis, come on man! Talk to me!”

Mac sat directly across from Dennis, his deep brown eyes gazing desperately at Dennis’s beautiful, motionless face. He took a deep breath of the stale cold air of the cellar and waited for what felt like hours in his racing mind. It was clearly going to take something more meaningful than a simple plea. He’d been trying that since he heard the door lock. But why did it always have to be him begging for forgiveness? No, he couldn’t let his pride impede him this time. Not now. It was too important, damn it!

“Dennis, look! I get it, ok? I fucked up! But if you think about it, I did this for you!”

Dennis inhaled slowly, never opening his eyes. He was sitting right there, right in front of him, but he may as well have still been in Minnesota. Or Mars, for that matter. If there was one thing he was communicating very clearly, it was the fact that he was anywhere but here right now. Anywhere but here with Mac. So callous and detached. They were strangers again. Even more apart from one another than before they had met. Mac reached out a hand yearningly, in attempt to clutch Dennis’s shoulder. Just to feel some contact. To assure himself. Without opening his eyes or moving a muscle in his face that may betray any hidden emotion, Dennis swept his hand in front of him, batting Mac’s hand down before it was able to reach its goal. The message here was clear. It was over.

“Goddamn it! This is ridiculous! What happened to all that inspirational shit you were saying earlier? About going to the ends of the Earth with me, and us being a force of nature! Seriously, dude! At least give me some kind of an explanation, you owe me that much!”

He could feel himself starting to lose his cool. It really wasn’t right! Mac had made his intentions very clear upon his arrival in the basement. And there was no one here to impress, either. What kind of a bullshit statement could he possibly be making? Even in a normal situation where he was mad, he made the motivations of his actions clear. Explosively so! He’d only pulled this cold-shoulder bullshit two or three times in their entire relationship, and it was always unreasonable! Mac was nowhere near ready to let this go.

“Dennis, you know what? Fuck you! I am so sick of this ‘holier than thou’ shit that you’re trying to pull! Stop acting like you have some kind of moral high ground here! I was trying to help you the best way I knew how, and you know what else? It would’ve worked if you hadn’t fucked it up by pulling a cheap illegal hold on me, and getting us both caught! And I was doing all this for you, bitch! Of course, you can’t appreciate it, though, ‘cause you can’t appreciate shit!”

Dennis remained completely unwavering. Sharing nothing with the man in front of him. Mac grit his teeth and balled up his right hand into a tight fist. In a fit of passion, he took a furious swing towards Dennis’s perfect nose, which Dennis effortlessly blocked. Then another with his left, which was swatted away with equal disregard. Mac didn’t bother attempting to add flair with his customary sound effects. He was truly enraged now.

He lunged towards Dennis in a frustration, but Dennis merely tilted his body, allowing Mac to barrel forward, smashing his shoulder violently into the steel bar of the support on the shelf behind him. A dozen or so loose bottles of booze came crashing to the floor, as Mac crumpled into a ball and cradled his bruised shoulder. He turned to look at the back of Dennis’s strong, lean frame, posed tirelessly in a form perfect lotus position. Mocking him. He felt the hint of tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes but forced them aggressively still. As still as the cold, statuesque man who sat before him.

 

_None of this is right!_

“You know what? Goddamn it, Dennis! You’re a horrible friend!”

Mac shambled to his feet, and walked around Dennis, facing him in a standing position. Looking down at the unmoved body of the man who he had devoted most of his life to.

“You can’t even say ‘I love you!’ Not once! I mean I get it. You’re afraid to say it because I’m gay. By the way, that’s real fucking immature dude! But shit, you can’t even say it when we’re alone! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”

“I don’t love you, Mac.” Dennis finally responded, eyes still closed.

A rush of dizziness and nausea suddenly gripped Mac, as he lowered himself to a seated position to face him. Not believing what he just heard, Mac took a second to collect his thoughts before allowing himself to respond. How could this be the first thing he said? Mac’s head began to spin, and he fought back a wave of tears as he forced himself to speak again.

“Excuse me?”

Dennis suddenly blinked his crystal blue eyes open and stared directly through Mac’s quivering eyelids.

“I don’t love you, Mac. Is it that hard to understand?”

Dennis’s eyes now remained cold. Fixed on Mac’s devastated expression. His face still completely void of emotion as Mac felt his entire body begin to tremble. It was classic Dennis, calculated and heartless. Mac could not begin to process what he was hearing. He felt his heart race. At that moment, he wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Anywhere but there with him.

“You don’t…”

“No Mac. I don’t love you. And no one ever has, or ever will. Your own father doesn’t love you. And your mother barely acknowledges your existence. Why for a moment, would you think that I would?”

Dennis delivered this message with no disdain in his voice. As clearly and as plainly as he could. He showed no outward signs of pleasure, even as Mac finally allowed the tears to fall in fat drops, splashing against the grim concrete below.

“What the fuck? Where is any of this coming from?” Mac softly wept, more deeply wounded than at any point he could clearly recall.

“It feels pretty fucked up, doesn’t it? When your best friend just stabs you in the back like that. No explanation. No warning. Devastating really.”

Mac continued sobbing, streams of clear mucus running down his beard, as a look of confusion now mixed into his deep melancholy.

“What, Mac? Did you think there wouldn’t be repercussions when you betrayed the man who knows better than anyone else? A man with whom you’ve shared your most intimate and personal of secrets willingly? Did you really think that you’d be able to walk away from such an act unscathed?”

Mac finally welled the remainder of his tears, bewildered at the cold and chilling words that Dennis was speaking with a now blood-curdling timber. Clearly vitriolic, but calm. Unfettered. Mac truly couldn’t tell his true intent.

“Dennis?”

“I don’t hate you, Mac. And yes, I knew you were about to ask.”

Mac swallowed the hard lump he could feel in his throat.

“You don’t?”

Dennis began to smirk calmly. Subtly. Mac fought the hurricane of thoughts that suddenly began to spiral about in his troubled mind, forcing himself to focus.

“So wait… why did you say all that seriously fucked up shit just now?”

“God, Mac. You’re so easy! It’s barely worth my effort. I don’t hate you. But you are unbelievably stupid. And you needed to learn.”

Mac began to feel the anger again, beginning to temper inside of him, boiling up from the pit of his stomach, but he fought the urge to respond. If there was ever a moment in his life where he had to fight the urge to respond to his indignation, this was it.

“Dennis, that really wasn’t cool!” Mac growled, restraining his emotion to the best of his ability.

“Yeah, no shit it wasn’t cool. What you did wasn’t cool, asshole! But you’re still my best friend, and…”

Dennis paused, revealing a hint of strain on his otherwise ambiguous expression. Mac’s initial relief at Dennis’s last statement was short lived as this new feeling of anticipation and nervous hopefulness started to overtake him.

“And what, dude?” Mac prompted.

Dennis sighed deeply.

“Look, Mac. My life in Minnesota. I kind of liked that. I was starting over. Becoming a different person. I had two people who were basically complete strangers, and they adored me. They worshipped me. I was the glue that held that family together, Mac. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Mac stared blankly, unsure how to react.

“Of course you don’t. Just bear with me. There’s a point to all this… Mac, I was hundreds of miles away from anything I’d ever known. It’s a kind of freedom from my past that I doubt you could even relate to. But here’s the thing Mac. That’s when it all hit me.”

“What are you talking about, dude?” Mac urged.

“That isn’t what I wanted. That isn’t the life I really wanted to be living. Do you wanna know why?”

Mac blinked. He searched for an answer.

“Because it was boring?” he answered without thinking.

“No! I mean, yes obviously. It was boring as shit. But you know why it was boring?”

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t there.”

Mac felt the sting of Dennis’s earlier words begin to lift. He was hit with a moment of euphoria amidst the uncertainty, and his doleful expression began to melt into a hopeful smile, as he stared into Dennis’s gleaming azure eyes for approval. Was this it? The moment he’d been waiting for all those years? Was Dennis actually going to return his affection the way he’d always hoped he would?

“Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Mac asked excitedly.

“Not in so many words Mac, but let me put it this way. I’m glad that it’s just you and me now.”

“Oh thank God! Thank you, Dennis!” Mac grinned broadly, placing his hands on Dennis’s firm broad shoulders, gazing directly into his eyes.

“But!” Dennis interrupted Mac’s moment of bliss, a severe look on his face. Mac withdrew from his heightened optimism with the sudden change in tone.

“But what, dude?”

“Don’t think for a moment that I will forget your transgressions. I have only shown you a miniscule sample of what the Golden God is capable of, baby boy! If you ever go over my head or try to betray me again, I will fucking end you, and it will be horrendous beyond your wildest imagination. I promise you this!”  
Mac nodded, his blissful aura only slightly diminished.

“Absolutely dude! From now on, we are on the same page! Hand to God!” Mac swore, raising his right palm in the air for emphasis. Dennis donned a wicked smirk, nodding subtly as he met eyes with his beloved blood brother.

“So what’s the plan?” Mac asked expectantly. Dennis placed a soft, manicured hand on Mac’s shoulder, never breaking eye contact.

“Right. You know the secret bunker? The one that we never finished?”

“Of course, dude! But don’t you think that Cricket found it by now, and emptied it out?” Mac asked.

“Cricket doesn’t have the code, Mac! I never even told Charlie. We’re the only ones who have the code. Remember?”

Mac nodded, then began to grimace slightly.

“What is it dude?” Dennis scowled.

“Ok, well there was this one time. It was really late. Like, 3 in the morning. And I got a call from Charlie. He was really shitfaced, and he was freaking out because Cricket was hiding out in the basement. He really wedged himself in there, so Charlie didn’t feel safe at all. And I’m not sure if I’m remembering things right, but I might have told Charlie the code to the bunker, like a bunch of times…”

“Unbelievable, Mac! You are useless… wait, you know what? It doesn’t matter, Mac. There’s no way Charlie memorized that code, and anyway, he couldn’t have found our secret supplies!” Dennis reassured.

Mac looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled confidently, gripping Dennis’s shoulder.

“Nah, dude. I didn’t tell him about that, and there’s no way he’d have known what to do with it even if he did find it!”

“Right, so I need you to go on down there get us just a few. Ok, Mac. And see if the bolt cutter’s still there so we can get this stupid fucking shock collar off me.”

“I’m pretty sure we left the bolt cutter behind, that one time we broke into the lawyer’s office.”

“Whatever, dude. If it’s not there. We’ll improvise. That part’s not important. Just bring the box back. That’s the important part here.” Dennis gestured with his hands. Mac nodded. He began to wear that giddy schoolboy smile that Dennis had silently missed so dearly during those months of separation he had spent with Mandy and Brian Jr.

“Absolutely dude! Oh man, we are seriously gonna fuck those McPoyles over this time! They’ll never know what hit ‘em! Dennis, dude! The gang seriously wouldn’t be shit without you!”

Mac took Dennis in his arms, sharing a warm embrace. He felt Dennis’s arms wrap around his back, his hand gently pressed between his muscular shoulders. Mac’s previous doubt dissolving entirely, his heart began to race. He felt a warm tear streaming down his left cheek. He pulled back as Dennis released his grasp. He looked deeply, longingly into Dennis’s diamond blue eyes.

“Dennis. I love you!” he smiled broadly. Dennis returned his smile.

“You’re goddamned right, you do! Now go get that box!”

Mac nodded, as he hopped to his feet and rushed determined to the corner of the basement, pushing a large shelf to reveal the concealed bunker door. Even the fact that Dennis wouldn’t return his simple admission of adoration wasn’t dampening his spirits this time. He swung the door open. Dennis gazed from his still seated position as Mac’s tall, muscular frame disappeared into the darkness of the bar’s secret safe room, watching the door ease back into its closed position. Sure that he was alone, Dennis afforded himself a relieving sigh.

“I love you too, Mac.”

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted my original notes, and I don't remember exactly what they said. Anyway, if you like my story, please leave comments if you have the time. I would love to hear from my audience, and I would value your feedback and even critique if you have any. I want to make sure that I am writing their voices true, and keeping it engaging. I'm big on audience participation. I currently have no actual description of sex scenes in my story, however, I can produce the details upon request, so let me know if that's something that you want or not.


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